Eclipse
by Jurious
Summary: AotC & RotS AU: Once apprehended on Geonosis, Padmé falls into the clutches of the villainous Count Dooku, and is taken on one of the most unexpected and frightening rides of her life. A very twisted and unconventional love story.
1. The Charismatic Separatist

**Author's Notes:** I know Author's Notes are often boring, but **PLEASE READ** these just this once! ^_^

******_eclipse n. blocking of light from one heavenly body by another; loss of brilliance or power, etc._

            -v. cause an eclipse of; outshine.******

That's the definition of _eclipse_, but it's down to you, the reader, on how you interpret the title according to the story. I'm the author, **Jurious**, and I thought it best I make a few introductory notes (or introductory **warnings) concerning this out-of-proportion fanfic before you go on to read it:**

Firstly, it's **Alternate Universe** (a '_what if…?' story, if you like) and begins after Jango Fett and the Geonosians have apprehended Anakin and Padmé in the droid foundries during _Attack of the Clones_. It's rated **PG-13** for its undeniable twisted-ness, and I know will contain a little bad language and at least one _inferred_ sexual situation (not in this chapter, mind you); they'll never be too strong, though – the strength of your imagination may deem how intense you find the more 'extreme' parts of the story. If you're uncomfortable with things like that, turn away now; it's not going to be loaded with that sort of thing – far from it, actually – but it will be present. _

Admittedly, on a side note, I write stories about _characters_, not about fights or what not… so everything is there to get something out of a character.

And, continuing from the '_twisted'_ note: yes this is the most _disturbing_ notion of a story I have _ever_ concocted! Needless to say, it does seem to work in some worrisome way. It was inspired _partially_ by a cut scene from _Clones,_ where Anakin & Padmé confer with Dooku, and also by another SW fanfic called **_Firestorm_, by ****PadawanHAB – though it's only '_inspired', not '__based upon' that fic; and PadawanHAB's definitely _****not to take ****any responsibility for my freakish imagination! I'm concerned that it may be _too_ bizarre for peoples' liking. You may read it and think that it's insane and deplorable, but, on the other hand, if you share my dark and warped nature, you may find yourself intrigued by its eccentricity and enjoying it.**

And, now a **final** few notes:

· I have an immense respect for the characters of _Attack of the Clones, and I do not wish to degenerate them in any way. I'm sure there are other twisted stories out there – and they're all relatively harmless insights into mad fan's minds, so don't take any of this, or any other story, to heart. ^_^ Believe me, it's for your own good!_

· I have made Tyranus/Dooku more evil than I actually find him on some occasions, and when I have to identify him by his first name, he'll be called 'Serenn'. He's called that already in another, completely unrelated, Dooku story I wrote, so it's stuck. ^_^

· I have more than immense respect for the actor who made Dooku his own – Christopher Lee. This story **does not** reflect him, or any other SW actor, in _any way_ whatsoever (to link an actor to their character in such a way is wrong, full-stop, but I'm just saying this…). Mr. Lee is a wonderful and decent man, and I pray he never reads this…

· No, I **don't** know where this story, or these _stupidly_ long author's notes, are going… but I've enjoyed writing them (honest!). I'm currently in the process of writing **_two_** other fics at the same time, so **don't expect me to ever finish this story! I'm a fulltime student as well, so schoolwork comes first… _apparently_.**

· And, yes, there are too many _italic_ and **bold words in these author's notes…**

Anyway, thankyou _so much_ for reading these notes! You can now decide whether or not to read this fic – perhaps I'm making too much of a fuss about nothing, but better to be safe than sorry, and I can always say that I **did** warn you if you complain! And if you're under 13, **please** **be responsible**, for crying out loud! The ratings aren't there to tease you!

I'm quite happy to receive criticisms, as long as you do it in a decent way – after all, I can't get better if I'm constantly being told I'm God or something! (OK, that was an exaggeration… 0_o). I just don't appreciate being sworn at or anything – heck, nobody does! – so don't so it! Treat others as you want to be treated yourself.

If you want to email me to find out **exactly** what this story is about first, be my guest:

**darth_jurious@yahoo.co.uk**

And MTFBWY all! – **Jurious**

**Disclaimer**: I own _nothing_! His Highness George Lucas owns it all – I just take the characters, and utilise them in my own ways. But I _would_ like a personal Count Dooku… u_u …Please.

(And, yes, here's the story now…)****

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**J**ango Fett held his gun up toward Padmé's back, following her and her friend, Anakin, as some Geonosian warriors lead them down the passageways of the Stalagasin Hive. The corridors were dark and gloomy, and had a disgusting stale smell about them. There was always a constant 'dripping' sound to be heard in the distance, too, to add to the disheartening nature of the atmosphere.

Anakin and his senator companion had been found trespassing in the droid foundries, and had caused a commotion to say the least. It was clear to Jango why they were here, though – they had come in search of the Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had been arrested earlier for espionage. He had been caught spying on Count Dooku and his Separatist allies – and, on Geonosis, that came with only one sentence: death.

Jango grinned beneath his ominous helmet – there was no sweeter sounding word to his ears than death. He earned a living off of other's deaths, and it would very much please him to see Kenobi destroyed at the hands of some uncivilised insectoid beings that lived on the Outer Rim. And it would please him even more to see Amidala and her Jedi companion slaughtered along with the first Knight; he had been assigned to kill Amidala by Tyranus originally, but had failed after several attempts. However, he knew that there was no escape for the seemingly invincible senator now…

The party walked solemnly in silence, their feet pattering against the metal trellis of the floor below. Padmé and Anakin were holding their heads high, trying to remain as resilient as they could under such conditions. Each of the humans were flanked by two winged Geonosian warriors. These creatures each held a pike, and kept them at the ready in case either of their prisoners should try and escape. However, with their hands firmly shackled, and with a skilled bounty hunter behind them, trying to escape would be futile.

Suddenly, the party halted. Padmé looked about unsurely as the points of her flanker's pikes came close to her face whilst she was pulled to a stop. Anakin was infront of her, and seemed equally uncertain as to what was going on, turning slightly to each of his captor's resentfully – they both only knew that they were in trouble.

Jango spoke out from behind, his voice fizzling mechanically through the receptors in his helmet; "Put the Jedi in a cell… he can suffer in the same way as his Jedi friend…"

The winged Geonosians up front grabbed one of Anakin's arms each, and hauled him off toward another passageway. Anakin tried to resist, leaning backwards and cringing in irritation. One of his guards pointed his pike into his back, though, and made him think twice about resistance. He reluctantly walked with them, turning to look back at Padmé for a brief second; it was all the time he could manage.

"Ani!" Padmé called after him, restrained by her Geonosian escorts, who clutched her arms tightly.

"Stay strong, Padmé!" Anakin called after himself as he was carted out of sight down a passageway, "Don't give in to them!"

Padmé watched the last space Anakin had been in, listening until she could hear his footsteps no longer; she inhaled deeply – she had lost the man she knew she loved, yet hadn't had the time to tell him it herself.

"All right, keep moving!" Jango insisted sharply, prodding Padmé's back with the nozzle of his gun, urging the Geonosian warriors who bordered her to move onward. They began to walk again; Padmé's posture was undeniably different this time, with her head hanging a little, and her heart filled with loss – what if she never saw Anakin again? What were these Geonosian beasts planning on doing to her and her fellow captive Jedi? She was well known for her strong manner and will, but now, for the first in a long time, she felt helpless, and had no idea how to handle her feelings…

They walked for what seemed like an age… yard after yard of the same metal grilling past below Padmé's feet as she was dragged roughly along by her captors. Her handcuffs rattled with every step she took, making her feel like some enslaved animal, and water constantly dripped down the subterranean walls of the Stalagasin Hive, giving it an eerie, unwelcome edge. Every tunnel they walked down was dark and gloomy, and just as grimy as the last, and the stale smell got increasingly more potent as they passed through some kind of Geonosian dorm area. Here, it wasn't unusual to see a Geonosian suddenly appear from a crack in the wall, having been camouflaged there originally, and then crawl off up through a vertical tunnel, chattering to itself in its own bizarre language.

Padmé felt very uncomfortable down here; the monotony of the scenery made her begin to feel particularly disorientated. She was beginning to wonder, as the minutes ticked by, where she was being taken – why hadn't she been imprisoned in a cell as well? What made her so special as to not be incarcerated with the others?

And just when she was beginning to think that she was to be marched along forever in these dark passageways, the party came to an abrupt halt.

Padmé looked up, swallowing.  The two Geonosians holding her had turned to Jango, seeming to await further instructions.

"Leave her to me," Fett ordered brusquely. 

The insectoid beings nodded in respect to the bounty hunter, releasing the Nubian Senator from their hold, before then scuttling off down yet more passageways that stretched on ahead.

Amidala's heart dropped – she just knew that something bad was going to happen. She turned to look at Fett, keeping her mouth shut for the time being, and swiftly frowned, noticing that the silver-clad hunter was inputting a code into a small control panel upon the wall – she hadn't even seen it when they'd first walked past! It was well concealed in the cavernous walls, camouflaged alike the Geonosians who inhabited the hives. She plucked up the courage to look straight into Fett's bland helmet, curious as to where she was being taken.

He abruptly turned back to look at her once he'd finished plugging his code in, and took a hold of her right arm, holding his gun to her back as a door in the wall hissed open. Padmé watched as it withdrew to reveal another yawning great passageway, but one infinitely cleaner than the latter ones. The air that flowed from it smelt fresher, and the atmosphere within seemed less close.

Fett nudged her on, "Come, _milady," he sneered mockingly, pushing her just ahead so that he could keep his gun on her from behind. He maintained one hold on her arm, keeping in close vicinity to her. Padmé did all that she could do – which was to do exactly as she was told – and walked onward down this hidden corridor. It became incredibly dull once the secret door behind them shut, yet Fett seemed confident that he knew where to tread, and continued to drive her on speedily._

Padmé soon realised that the dripping noise had ceased, and that a welcome unsullied breeze was now gently drawing by her; she theorised that they were heading upwards, to a part of the hive above ground. 

After a good hundred-metre stretch of simple straight passageway, they reached a narrow, sandstone stairway, leading upwards. Fett urged Amidala further on, and she carefully made her way up, the steps being tricky to tread upon in the gloom, and surprisingly slippery. She constantly felt the bounty hunter's gun nozzle in the small of her back, which was most off-putting, and didn't help her ascent up the flight of steps at all. Jango was becoming evidently irritated by her seeming clumsiness, constantly snorting with frustration when she stumbled or had to stop – but Padmé was well aware that he'd probably walked up this stairway before; she didn't have that benefit.

They eventually (to Padmé's relief) reached the top of the flight, and walked out into a corridor that was substantially lighter than the tunnel. Padmé squinted in the influx of radiance, her eyes steadily adjusting to the lighter conditions. They walked on down this cathedral-like passage, where sunlight beamed in through ornately designed window hatches, until they came to another door. This one was not imperceptible, like the last, but had some kind of regal edge to it; the room, or whatever was behind the entrance, was obviously of some great importance.

Fett nudged Amidala to the side, sheaving his blaster, and inputting a further code into a panel at the side of this door. It bleeped in recognition of his code, and gradually hissed open. She watched cautiously as the door opened; beyond it was a small room that seemed to lead to yet _another. There were a few bare seats in the room, and light streamed attractively through the windows to the chamber's right._

Before Padmé could take all this in, she was roughly shoved forward across the threshold of the doorway; Jango's rough handling caused her to lose her footing, and she fell awkwardly upon the floor, unable to adequately support herself whilst her hands were shackled.

"Clumsy girl…" Fett hissed. He gave her an unexpected kick to the stomach, "Get up!" he yelled.

 "I'm trying…" she growled through gritted teeth, cringing in response to his kick. She attempted to get back to her feet, but her hands were bound too well, and she found it incredibly difficult. She heard Fett sigh with further frustration.

 "Try harder!" the hunter demanded. He was clearly a man of very little patience.

"Enough, Jango…"

Fett's head rose from looking down upon Amidala to the far doorway, from whence the voice had come. He straightened to attention, and nodded in a mark of respect; "My lord," he said courteously to the new presence, "I have Senator Amidala here, brought at your request."

Padmé frowned, the deep voice of the other man unknown to her. She arched her head up from her position on the floor, and took in the sight of an aged, yet regal human male, stood in the far, and now open, doorway. He had silver hair, and a considerably warm face, adorned with a trim beard. He wore dark clothes, and a sweeping brown cloak, with high, black boots, and was distinctly tall, with the most rich, baritone voice. All this meant only one thing: she was – for the first time, she may add – in the presence of her political opponent, Count Dooku.

"Help our guest to her feet, Jango," the Count continued, looking upon Padmé with his deep, brown eyes, smiling mildly toward her, "And bring her into my office."

"Yes, my lord," Fett nodded gruffly, grasping Padmé's arms and yanking her up onto her feet again. 

Amidala frowned – why was Fett addressing Dooku as 'lord' if he was a Count? She didn't have time to think about it further as the bounty hunter discourteously towed her into the Separatist leader's room, and pushed her over the far doorway. She winced as she fell onto her knees again: if anything, she was just glad that she was now out of the bounty hunter's hands…

Dooku had by now walked across the room he had called 'his office', and stood by a desk at the far end. It wasn't a huge room, but it seemed a decent working space; it was plain, with a few small windows about the ceiling, and the typical Geonosian 'twin sickle' motif bordering the walls, carved into the rock face exquisitely.

"Thankyou, Jango… you are, for now, dismissed," Dooku said agreeably, placing a hand upon his desk, and looking up to the bounty hunter, "Feel free to go and refresh yourself, and then return to your son." 

Jango made a short nod back to the Count, "As you wish, my lord," he said, turning and leaving the room. The doors hissed shut behind him, leaving Padmé alone with the infamous Count of Serenno.

Amidala stared hard at Dooku, and he stared harder back; there was a brief moment of electric tension as their compelling gazes met, each sizing up the other, their political rivalry evident in the close atmosphere of the room.

Padmé decided to break this silent staring battle, and asked incredulously, "'_My lord'_? I thought you were a 'Count'…?"

A slow smile crept up at the corners of Dooku's mouth, and he beheld her with a certain gentle amusement; "I'm many things, my dear," he replied calmly, his tone low.

He made a waft with his hand through the air before him, almost as if he was making some kind of signal – and just before Padmé thought he'd lost it, she felt the air rumble about her, and her shackles dropped from her wrists to the floor with a clang. She gasped, looking down, startled – how on earth had he done that…?

Slowly looking back up to him, Amidala was unable to prevent a slight expression of veneration from forming upon her face; he stared back with a resolute confidence.

_'You know milady that Count Dooku was once a Jedi…'_

Padmé recalled the words of Mace Windu from earlier – of course, Dooku had a knowledge and mastery of the Force; he therefore had the ability to do such things. That didn't help in boosting her confidence, however...

She shot to her feet, brushing herself off, and looked to him sternly, keeping alert. He didn't seem to make a reaction; he just stood there motionless, apparently amused by her antics.

"You are holding two Jedi Knights captive," she said, getting straight into business. The Count's eyes held her unwaveringly, and she began to feel most self-conscious under such an imposing gaze. She continued, gathering herself, "I am formally requesting that you hand them over to me now, and allow us to go free."

Dooku's eyed wandered downward, and he slowly paced a few steps away from his desk. He stood to the far left of the room, holding his hands behind his back, and turned gallantly to look back at Padmé, saying in a deep, measured tone, "I'm afraid I can't do that, my lady." His face had lost its primary amiability, and now seemed somewhat cold and foreboding.

She looked at him hard, shaking her head slightly with denial; "And why not?" she questioned him gravely, her eyes narrowing onto him "I am a leading member of the Galactic Senate, who has the authority to-"

"Don't play fool with me, Senator," Dooku interrupted, his voice reverberating off of the walls of the room commandingly, "You could be anyone, for all I care, but you and your friends have been found trespassing on private property. It is a crime, no matter what skin you wear."

Padmé swallowed hard, his voice inflicting quite a shock upon her. She continued to look toward him, though.

Dooku took a breath, stepping toward Amidala, "The first Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, has been convicted of espionage," he revealed uniformly, his tone now taking on a sinister form, "He will be executed at the Geonosians' hands in a few hours time, I believe..."

Padmé couldn't maintain her composure, and she shouted in horror, "No! You sick, twisted man! He's an officer of the Republic, you can't do that!"

Dooku's face tightened in wrath, yet he smoothly controlled his ire, and growled in a composed, measured tone, "We don't recognise the Republic here, Senator."

Amidala raised her lip in disgust and disbelief, shaking her head once again - how could he just say that? Peoples' lives were on the line!

The Count walked back toward his desk, and perched upon its edge in a composed manner, clasping his hands in his lap; "But, if Naboo were to join our alliance," he went on, "I could easily hear your plea for clemency..."

Padmé inhaled, trying to remain calm - he was trying to win her to his cause through blackmail.

As though he read her thoughts, Dooku added, "I don't wish to make you join our cause against your will, but I assume that you want to do what is in the best interests of your people…?"

She suddenly felt the need to hesitate, and glanced down to her side. The Count allowed a slight smile, realising that he was getting to her quite quickly; "Aren't they fed up with the corruption?" he murmured gently, his voice flowing like a gentle stream, lashing at the edge of Padmé's uncertain mind. He slowly made his way toward her, taking large, slow steps, a proud smirk etched into his face. Amidala raised her eyes, and warily monitored his approach, looking at the chilling grin upon his visage. 

The Count continued, "The hypocrisy? The bureaucrats…? Aren't they fed up with them, too?"

He stopped before her. Padmé could only look down, his presence a shockingly massive weight on her mind. She swallowed hard, watching the tips of his cloak gently clout about his shins, feeling herself succumb to some strange sensation – she felt so claustrophobic, and closed in, like the essence of Dooku was itself a huge personage in the room, clouding about her, and stifling her; she felt like a caged animal, even though her wrists were no longer bound. She knew he was somehow orchestrating the ambience in an attempt to dominate her for his own wicked amusement.

The Count held his smirk, "Aren't _you fed up with it all?" he asked hushly, on a more personal note, his voice placid and strangely soothing. He folded his arms over his chest, and looked down upon her, surveying how she began to break under his powerful demeanour._

She blinked hard, feeling her heart rate increase, and her breaths quicken - why was she panicking? He wasn't doing anything! She mustn't show weakness. 

She forced herself to look up at him, glaring intently into his eyes, but only found herself swallowing timidly again. Though he now seemed to behold her with an element of sympathy, his eyes only falsified the tyrannous presence that Padmé felt from him – she still felt under enormous pressure.

She endeavoured to think of a response to his questions, and stared down to her feet in an attempt to regain her equanimity. She heard Dooku chuckle amusedly, and she gasped, startled as he suddenly grabbed her chin, and raised her countenance up to face his, "My, my Senator," he grinned whimsically, "We _are_ nervous... I was under the impression, from your outstanding reputation, that you didn't suffer from such a trait."

He was toying with her, she just knew it; she slapped his hand away from her jaw and snarled aggressively, "Well, I do happen to be on unfriendly 'Separatist Territory', rudely overshadowed by a man who, quite frankly, makes me sick…"

Dooku's eyebrows rose in amusement, and he chuckled at her words in what he had deemed a pitiable comeback; "I'm sorry, milady… you must forgive me if I _intimidate_ you," he said, holding his smile, a chilling coldness edging his tone; he didn't move from where he stood, however.

"You're just a power-mad bully, Dooku," she growled, gazing fiercely at him, ignoring her peculiar, unrelenting fears, "The ideals of the Republic _do_ still exist, even if the constitution is failing."

"We believe in the same ideals, Senator," the Count replied frankly, opening his hands to her in gesture, "But it is the _Separatists_ who are trying to reinstate the prominence of these ideals… I see no effort within the barracks of the Republic striving to do such."

"Well, if what you say is true, then perhaps you should stay in the Republic and help Chancellor Palpatine **put things right**…" she retorted strictly.

Dooku nodded slowly in reaction her comment, and – to Padmé's relief – began to pace a little further away from her, circling her unhurriedly; "You talk of idealism. I was once an idealist, and in some respects, still am. But the universe doesn't adhere to the rules of idealism. I've stepped out into this 'real world' from the bubble in which the Jedi live, and have seen where idealism gets one… nowhere. I once hoped to believe that the Supreme Chancellor meant well when he was elected, and would rectify the problems this Republic faced, but I see now, more than ever, that this was never his goal – he is more than what meets the eye, milady. To call him a sham would be an understatement. He promised to cut the bureaucracy, but the bureaucrats are stronger than ever, are they not? He promised many things which have fallen by the wayside…"

He completed a full circle about her, and stopped once more infront of her, looking down into her fiery eyes, "I realise now the truth – and above all that the Republic cannot be fixed."

"A hoard of sceptic remarks, made by one who wants nothing but war!" she snapped in response.

Dooku was not prepared to be shouted down, and loudened his rumbling voice, "_It can not be fixed, my lady**,**_" he repeated sharply, walking behind her, and grasping her shoulders forcefully in his hands. Padmé looked down to one of his hands tentatively; his very touch sent an abnormal shudder of fear through her body, as if it, alike his presence, incited a foreign apprehension into her through some insidious means…

She jolted her head back forward as he lowered his head by the side of hers; she felt his breath on her neck, and she closed her eyes uneasily as he whispered into her ear, "It is time to start over." She gulped, feeling so distressed, yet unable to pull away, as though she didn't have the capacity to defend herself, or to repel his advances – he was doing something to her, somehow manipulating her…and she couldn't seem to stop him.

He chuckled again, seemingly satisfied with how he'd driven her from a being an assertive Senator into a tense wreck. He slowly withdrew his head, and slid his hands leisurely from off her shoulders, strolling to the side of the room. Padmé exhaled deeply, the weight on her lifting a little as he wandered a short distance away.

"The time will come," he said certainly, turning back to look at her, "When that cult of greed called the Republic will lose even the pretext of democracy and freedom… and if your naivety forces you not to see that, and you refuse to join my cause, I can do nothing to prevent your friends' executions, for, yes, the second Jedi will be executed too."

Amidala hammered the Count with a deep, hurtful gaze, "And what about me?" she asked sardonically, "Am I also to be executed?"

Dooku looked momentarily insulted, and, putting a hand to his chest in a light gesture of disbelief, retorted, "I would never think of such an offence!" He turned his back to her, his cloak sweeping behind him, and walked across his office – but slowed to a stop around its centre as if suddenly remembering something. He slowly turned his head to look at her. She returned his gaze guardedly.

"There are 'individuals', however," he said in a low voice, stepping progressively toward her once again, "Who may have a strong interest in your demise…"

Padmé finally forced herself to take a step back as she watched him approach, feeling that she was losing control of herself in here; the offhandedness of his tone was frightening when the subject of his words was considered.

He came to a firm stop within thirty centimetres of her, and muttered down to her hoarsely, "And I'm sure they'll push to have you included in the execution."

Padmé tried to maintain a stiff upper lip and regarded him with contempt, scowling toward him.

He looked upon her with a degree of mercy, adding, "And, as I have stressed already, without your co-operation, I've done all I can for you and your friends."

"I will not forsake all I have honoured and worked for and betray the Republic," she said with antipathy toward him, "I know of your treaties with the Trade Federation, the Commerce Guilds, and the others, Count. What is happening here is not government that has been bought out by business... it's business becoming government!"

"Believe what you will, my dear," he slyly smirked, cocking his head a littler to the side beguilingly, "But if you are not going to co-operate, then I must turn you over to the Geonosians for justice. I've done all I can for you."

Padmé looked at him in horror, shaking her head in frenzy, "How were you ever a Jedi?" she hissed in contempt, "How can you just sit back and let these things happen? How can you watch two of the Order you were once part of go to their deaths, trying to aid the Republic you once served? How can you live with yourself, knowing that _you_ betrayed so many people who trusted you?"

Dooku's smile dropped, and his lip twitched in anger; he grasped her sharply by her chin again, and held her face up to look into his own, "Don't scorn _me_, girl," he snarled viciously. Again, Amidala felt his very touch send a chill through her body, as though he himself were cold and empty within, filled with that which makes fear itself. She looked to him wide-eyed, trying to shake the fright he sent pummelling into her – he must be manipulating the Force to disturb her so; she had heard of the more dangerous and frightful things that it could be twisted to do, and had no doubt that he'd mastered these vindictive techniques.

His grip loosened on her chin, and she hoped that he was to let her go – but, to her ultimate shock, he impetuously and sensually kissed her, pulling her into him, and locking his mouth hard about hers. She didn't have time to think – she just felt herself fall into a bizarre lull as his surprisingly soft lips pressed against her own, caressing her fervently. The restraint was on her again – a powerful force that dumbed-down her will to escape, and made her helpless and vulnerable. It was the strangest feeling.

By the time some kind of resistance stirred within her, and her mind finally realised that she should be breaking away, Dooku had slowly withdrawn from her. He looked into her eyes deeply; she could only stare back in astonishment; he may have been a Separatist and a menace, but she had thought him at least a gentleman. That view was now quashed.

"How _dare_ you?" she finally managed to tremble, stepping away from him shakily, unable to comprehend the problems she was having with her own emotions.

The Count looked alarmingly unashamed, and a playful grin crossed his aged face, "Better a former Jedi, free to do as he will, than a Jedi Padawan, forbidden to do such…" he hissed snidely.

Padmé's eyes widened in a bewildered fear – he knew about her and Anakin? But how_…_?

He identified her realisation of her lost secret in the shock strongly radiating from her thoughts; "Your mind's an open book to me, Senator," he sneered arrogantly, "In your moments of weakness during our conversation, you have left your mind unguarded to my mental advances… and I can clearly sense your love for a certain Padawan."

She gulped, unable to take everything in that was happening; "Rather him than you…" she unsteadily retorted, in what she felt was a poor response, but all she could handle.

He chuckled grimly, stepping right up to her again, and running a finger down her face, "Padmé," he purred teasingly, "You like it really…"

She pulled away from him in derision, "Don't flatter yourself!" she seethed furiously, "Now, prove to me that there is some courtesy left within you – let me go!"

"I've told you, I can't do that," he repeated, wheeling about and lightly walking behind her once more. Padmé quivered nervously, sensing him at the rear of her – she couldn't get over her erratic feelings; she couldn't control her fear! She was well known for her composure and valour – but today it seemed as though Dooku had made her leave her strongest qualities outside of the door. She didn't recognise herself.

She inhaled sharply as he took a hold of her shoulders again, stepping close behind her – the iciness trickled from his touch through her veins, and spread infectiously around her body again. She clutched her fingers tightly together and closed her eyes, a darkness seeping into her mind. She felt light-headed, almost faint, and the feeling intensified as the Count moved so that his body was stood touching her back. She breathed in a panicky manner, beginning to sweat a little for the first time…this was not good at all. She knew she wanted to break away, but she had no will to – it had gone.

"Joinme Padmé," Dooku asked her tenderly, though it was an order more than an option. He gave her shoulders another stroke, engrossed by the power he had over her. She swallowed before exhaling nervously, the Count's caresses relaxing her shoulders against her will – she didn't want to fall further under his sinister and hazardous control, but she couldn't help it…it was terrifying.

"I can't," she whispered, his uncanny, intangible influence subduing her.

"You can," he urged her, sliding his hands down to her waist and taking a light grip there, "Because you have nothing to go back to…"

Padmé finally peeled her eyes open, "What?" she asked, staring into the space of Dooku's office before her, feeling his body still close behind. She sensed another grin rise on his face, though she couldn't see him, and felt his hands rub just above her hips tenderly – she ignored his affections for the moment, too concerned with his inexact words.

"What if I told you that the Sith Lord the Jedi seek is right under their noses?" he whispered softly into her ear, "What if I told you that this Sith Lord has a place in the senate? What if I told you he controls the senate…?"

Padmé gasped in horror, shaking her head a little, "You're lying…" she murmured; her own will fleetingly broke the unearthly hold that Dooku had her in, and she tore from his grasp, and wheeled about to face him, "You're _lying_!" she shouted.

Dooku was unmoved by her despair, "I almost wish that were so," he quietly replied.

She began to breathe rapidly again; "Tell me you're lying…" she demanded desperately.

He just looked back, his visage indifferent, but honest.

Padmé clutched her hands into tight fists, and pelted Dooku on the chest fearlessly, "Tell me you're_ lying_!!" she repeated distraughtly, holding the tears of terror in as best as she could. She didn't break easily.

The Count grabbed each of her hands calmly, and firmly placed them back down by her sides, "I'm not lying, Padmé," he clearly stated, looking hard at her.

She shook her head, pulling her hands from his clutches, "It can't be true!" she cried, "How could it be? The Jedi would know! They'd sense it!"

Dooku's eyebrows rose selflessly, "Just like they sensed the Sith had returned ten years ago…?"

The Senator hesitated, looking hard into Dooku's fathomless eyes; it was true that the Jedi had failed to sense the Sith's presence ten years before, and it had taken the sacrifice of Qui-Gon Jinn to prove to them the existence of the Sith… What if Dooku was telling the truth?

"Join me, Padmé," he asked her again, "Help me overthrow the Sith!"

Everything looked hopeless, and something within her told her that Dooku's offer was the only salvation. Surely he was only full of lies and deceit, though…?

But, if he weren't lying, then the cost to the Republic would be devastating. If it _was_ true, then they were already doomed.

"If you don't join me now, it will be too late, my dear," he reminded her, "And when we're all under Palpatine's dictatorship, I'll only be able to say that 'I told you so'."

Padmé's eyes widened in further shock, "_Palpatine_?" she shrieked in dread.

"Yes, Palpatine!" he stated unquestionably, "Didn't I make it clear to you? Your fellow Nubian is the Sith Lord!"

Amidala shook her head – the man she had enabled to be propelled into power, when she called her 'Vote of No Confidence' ten years back, was actually the Sith Lord? He'd blockaded his own planet, orchestrated Qui-Gon's death, and caused so much strife…?

"No…" she uttered fearfully, her eyes glazing over with trepidation.

She lost her courage and strength to a combination of Dooku's unseen power and her own feeling of defeat and fear, and when the Count's hand touched the back of her head, she willingly leant into his chest, and allowed a tear to run down her face.

"The forces I am gathering will stand against Palpatine's dictatorship," Dooku went on delicately, stroking the Senator's hair gently as she lay against him, beset by his elusive influence, "War is inevitable, Padmé. Just make sure you're on the right side…"

Amidala was totally lost – what could she do?

Dooku lifted her head from his chest, and looked into her face, "Make sure you're by my side…" he whispered softly, before lightly kissing her upon the lips. Unintentionally, Padmé began to unconscientiously kiss him back, closing her eyes, feeling empty and numb inside. The darkness was still there, enclosing round her emotions, and rendering them cold and unfeeling – she was hurt and vulnerable, traumatised by her new view of the Republic, and of her key involvement in the elevation of a Sith Lord to power. Dooku took advantage of this susceptibility, and with his skills and powers, manipulated her emotions, and drew her to him.

By the time Padmé got passed the numb control over her, and realised what she was doing, she didn't break her lips away from the Count's; perhaps she wanted to be safe, to be comforted… whatever she desired, she felt that, at this moment in time, only Dooku could give it to her.

She had been won over by the charisma of the Separatist.

**"ECLIPSE"**

**_A Star Wars 'Alternate Universe' story_**

****

'What am I doing?' Padmé asked herself, looking at her own reflection in a shining, silver goblet in the quarters of Poggle the Lesser, the Geonosian Archduke. Nothing felt real to her at the moment; everything felt like a bad dream. The prospects of war had lingered so long in the Republic that Padmé had begun to believe that it'd never actually occur. Nor did she believe that, if it did occur, that she'd be joining the side of the Separatist forces; but most of all, she never thought that she'd end up in a passionate embrace with a man who had not only until recently been her political opponent, but who was doubtlessly old enough to be her grandfather…

Age wasn't everything, though; she knew better than most, having been made Queen when but 14 years of age. She sighed – she was only telling herself that to make herself feel better.

What about Anakin? What had happened to her feelings for him? Now that she was alone, she felt her love for and devotion to Anakin again, but was now unsure about it, and confused; her time spent with Dooku had messed up her mind.

She sighed, looking downwards – she wasn't at all sure about joining the Separatists, but staying in the Republic was no longer an option. And at least, through joining the Count, she had now given Dooku the power to free her friends – something good was going to come from this coalition at least. She just hoped that she could get her political followers, from within the Republic, to understand her conversion.

Yet, she still had no proof of Dooku's Sith claims being true. What if he had manipulated her mind as well as her emotions, and made her believe that Palpatine was a Sith Lord? Could his powers extend that far? Or perhaps he wasn't so powerful…perhaps she was just a lot weaker than she thought she was.

Now was not the time to lose confidence. War was brewing, and she'd need to keep her wits about her. She could trust no one any longer.

Suddenly, the doors behind her opened. She turned about and watched Dooku enter with the Geonosian leader, Poggle. This Geonosian seemed different to the others she'd encountered – he had grown some decorative appendages upon his head like a headdress, and also had one drooping alike a beard, hanging from under his chin. He wore gold bangles on his wrists, and beautiful jewels were encrusted onto his metallic clothing; plus, in his hand, he carried a cane – it was clearly more decorative than actually supportive, though, made of an attractive metal, and plated in parts with gold.

The Geonosian stopped still, tapping his fingers upon his staff, his beady eyes sizing up the young Nubian Senator. Dooku looked from the insectoid to Padmé; he opened his hand toward her, "And here she is," he said. It was obvious to Amidala that the two had entered the room mid-conversation, and had been talking about her prior to their entry.

Poggle continued to look over her doubtfully, before he toddled up to her, his head bobbing up and down in a characteristic way as he ambled over; _["Are you sure she'll be an asset to the Confederacy? What does she have to offer?"_] Poggle chirped in Geonosian, a language Padmé could definitely not understand – it sounded like a load of indistinguishable snorts and whistles.

Realising that the Count understood the alien perfectly, she felt suddenly uncomfortable again – she could not be privy to what Poggle was saying now, which was most unsettling, especially when she knew it concerned her.

_["What does she have to offer?"]_ Poggle continued, standing straight, his hands upon his cane, and turning his elongated head to look back at the human Count. 

Dooku paced over, his disconcerting grin making a reappearance, "Much," he replied confidently in Basic – he could comprehend Poggle, but, as a human, didn't have the capability to talk back to Poggle in his language.

Poggle's beady little black eyes looked upon Dooku unsurely, _["Much what?"]_ he asked, giving the Count a suggestive stare.

Dooku's grin widened, and he chortled in a twisted geniality, "Come, come, Archduke… you know I'm better than that."

Padmé frowned, glancing between the two men warily – she didn't like the tone of Dooku's voice, nor the look on Poggle's face.

_["Just a bonus, is it?"]_ Poggle grimaced, trotting about his chamber, fluttering his wings briefly, _["I tell you what, Serenn, if you can do this well at your age, then I'll easily be able to win the Queen of the Marxin Hive over…"]_

Dooku laughed again, then returned to a slightly more grave manner, "Jokes aside, Poggle – Senator Amidala here can bring us many an asset. She is a highly regarded leader of a group of systems opposed to the 'Military Creation Act'… unfortunately, war is inevitable, and she has realised this. The Republic has betrayed her and her allies by blindly allowing a Sith Lord to rise amongst its ranks. She will now advise her allies to join my cause – the side repelling the advances of this 'phantom menace'."

Poggle tapped his cane upon the floor again, and angled his head back to look at the Count; he pursed his lip as best as he could, and rubbed his beard-like appendage with his free hand, _["I don't know, Serenn,"]_ he admitted unsurely, _["Nute won't appreciate it at all… and she is still so young…"]_

"And I'm old, but age is of no consequence," Dooku lightly retorted, walking behind Padmé and placing his hands onto her shoulders, "And since when has that pusillanimous Neimoidian appreciated anything except his own well-being?"

Padmé sighed dejectedly, briefly closing her eyes as the ethereal 'cold' of Dooku's touch emitted from his hold again.

_["You said it, my boy,"]_ Poggle shrugged indifferently. He stepped to the desk, by his chamber wall, where his silver goblet that Padmé had been admiring stood, and continued; _["She is a Senator from Naboo, is she not? Naboo and its equally passive allies have little to offer your movement in the way of arsenal or strength…"]_

"Every system counts, Archduke," the Count urged him to consider, "We have enough arsenal provided from the more affluent members of the Confederacy… we need no more. Senator Amidala here is a powerful figure…" – he tightened his grip on her momentarily, making her swallow anxiously – "The mere impact of this unexpected move will be enough to effectively aid our cause… just as my leaving the Jedi Order came as a horrific blow."

Poggle made a sigh of consideration, picking up his goblet and taking a mouthful of the juice present within. He placed it back upon the desk, and replied finally, _["Fine, Serenn… I am swayed to see your point of view. Though, you are a man, alike myself, and I believe that to be your motivation enough in this case…"]_

The Count grinned again grimly, "How can you suggest such to me, Archduke? I am most offended…"

Poggle made his version of a chuckle – though it sounded like someone trying to blow his or her nose when congested to Padmé; _["I'm sure…"]_ he jeered.

"And, on another point, I want the Jedi freed," Dooku added sternly.

Poggle's eyebrows rose, _["Freed?"] _he snorted_, ["On what grounds? They are criminals – even this Senator here. I have received the reports of their acts of espionage and devastation around these parts, and know that, under our laws, they should face execution. I am willing to make an exception for the female here on behalf of the Confederacy, Serenn, but I cannot afford to free the others…"]_

The Count hadn't wanted that answer. 

Amidala felt the weight of the atmosphere increase, and tighten about her as Dooku's rage burned steadily within him; "You can afford to free the others," he snarled monotonously, seeming to be ordering Poggle about. Padmé glanced to her side at the Count's hand upon her, then looked to Poggle with insecurity – the Count was manipulating the Geonosian using a Jedi mind trick! _'They only work on the weak minded'_ Anakin had said – and Dooku knew that, too.

Poggle's eyes seemed to glaze over, and he became almost inanimate, _["I can afford to free the others,"]_ he said – he sounded even more robotic than usual.

"We have Senator Amidala on our side now, and in return, you must allow her friends to be freed," Dooku went on.

_["We have Senator Amidala on our side now, and in return, I must allow her friends to be freed,"]_ the Geonosian repeated.

"I can go and free them now."

_["You can go and free them now…"]_

"Whilst you go for a walk."

_["Whilst I go for a walk…."]_

"See you later, Poggle."

_["See you later, Serenn…"]_

And with that, the Geonosian turned from his desk and left his chamber steadily. The door hissed closed behind him as he departed, and a long silence followed.

"What was that all about?" Amidala asked, beginning to feel the atypical claustrophobia again as the Count held her shoulders.

"The Archduke has accepted you, and your friends can go free – I am a man of my word, am I not?" Dooku replied quietly. He patted her shoulder affably, and walked to her side, "You're as good as joined to my Confederacy now…"

"You need a second opinion?" she asked incredulously.

"No," he replied honestly, "But it'll make your acceptance into the Separatist forces easier; if Poggle is there to back me up, then the prejudiced amongst our members may be encouraged to follow suit... there are some who really don't like you, my dear."

"And what were you talking about when you feigned offence?" she asked, wanting to know, "I didn't like the sound of your voice…"

Dooku thought back to his conversation momentarily, "Oh, _that_… it was nothing," he smiled shrewdly, hooking his thumbs into his belt and walking slowly to the exit of the room.

Padmé's brow knitted tightly, and walked infront of him irritably, stopping him in his tracks, "I've joined your movement – I need to know I can trust you. Tell me."

The Count nodded faintly, charmed by her outburst of anger, "Well, if you must know…" he smiled provocatively, taking her by the shoulder, and walking her along by his side, "The Archduke claimed that my being a man was my motivation for getting you to join my cause."

Padmé's eyes widened, and she looked up at him hard, suddenly feeling even more uneasy.

Dooku snickered under his breath, opening the door of Poggle's chamber, and walking her out, "Ignore him, my dear," he smiled in the outer hallway, the door hissing closed behind them, "I really don't think I have the time."

Padmé looked down, frowning fretfully as he laughed again, shaking his head at her shock; he brushed past her, marching off down the corridor; "Come, Senator," he called behind him, "Your friends await…"

**TBC…**

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**NB**: Gees… that was a long chapter! Forgive me, I do have a strange fascination with Count Dooku… I can't help how I feel.


	2. Failed Liberation

**Author's Notes:** Wow – people read and reviewed! Bless you all! And it looks like popular opinion is for me to carry on. I'm glad I'm not the only person who likes writing/reading a few **warped** stories. 

**Skywalker Blue:** _Hee hee_ – got the desired response from you! ^_^ And I knew _someone_ would pick at the 'on earth' thing! SW readers are well picky! Don't worry – I'm just the same! I know the story's not nice (unless you're a Dooku-freak, like myself) but there's too much Ami/Ani or Ami/Obi out there – I just want to be dark and nasty, as is my nature… many thanks for your review! It's great to have some criticism for once! :D

**MerryMoll**: Ah, I knew you'd quite like the '_twisted Jurious'_ approach… I still don't know quite where this is going, though. And, yeah, I _love_ Christopher Lee – I don't care how old he is – but it's not just that that made me write this, it was just the chance to make Dooku as _evil_ and _formidable_ as I could allow myself to. Again, I don't _really_ think he'd ever be so vile, but it's interesting to try these things out. If you wanna help me out with a few problems I'm debating for my own approach to 'Episode 3' as far as this goes, please email me! I'm not sure where to take this…

**Liz**: Thankies – but don't hold any hopes. I can be pretty evil sometimes…

**Seth**: Bless you! It's been a while since I've had an 'awesome' thrown at me! I'd hug you if I could. ^_^

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely, positively _nothing_! Lord Lucas owns it all – and I just take his characters, and use them for myself. ^_^ I do take certain liberties with the characters and their relationships, and whatnot though. ****

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"ECLIPSE"

**Part 2**

**O**bi-Wan heard the door to his cell creak open. He groaned, tired and unsettled, the force field in which he was suspended having deprived him of both sleep and orientation. He felt most sick and rough. 

The cells of the Stalagasin Hive were brutal, and invulnerable to the powers of the Force – clever devices, considering that the Geonosians had cooked them up. The manacles that were clasped around the prisoner's wrists, ankles and neck weren't connected to anything via chains – they were fitted with special repulsorlift devices, which, through the blue force field that encompassed the convict, emitted from plates on the floor and ceiling, made the detainee float in midair and constantly rotate around. It was torture within custody.

Kenobi forced his heavy eyelids open, his head pounding with a compelling headache, and his throat dry and parched. He watched Dooku pace in. 

Obi groaned as his vision fizzled between singular and double – he felt terrible, and he really didn't appreciate the former Jedi's company, as lonesome as it was in here; "What is it now, Count?" he asked groggily.

Dooku looked up to him, making no effort to conceal his smirk of satisfaction toward Kenobi's deteriorating condition, "I bring you good tidings," he said plainly, as if talking to some one in their own sitting room.

Kenobi managed a slight, gruff nod, his muscles aching all over, and his energy levels drained; he was sceptical of the Count's revelation, "What, then?" he queried, monitoring Dooku with his tremulous eyesight.

Dooku allowed a pause to pass, enjoying drawing things out with the suffering Jedi. He then finally replied with, "You are to be freed."

" 'Freed'?" he spluttered cynically, his head nodding down a little in fatigue; his body was craving the rest this villainous contrivance was not allowing him to have; the ailing Jedi had to gather his ebbing strengths before he could continue, "I thought it was going to be 'difficult to secure my release'?"

Dooku snickered gently under his breath, watching Obi-Wan falter, "I'm being honest, my friend.  Difficult it may have been considered, and would have remained, until your friend, Senator Amidala, turned up in the Droid Foundries with her Jedi friend. She has much more sense than you, and has helped me secure your release…"

Kenobi's heart had dropped – Padmé and Anakin had obviously turned in an attempt at rescuing him, but had fallen into the hands of the Separatists. What had Padmé had to do in order to extricate him? He closed his tiring eyes, swallowing hard.

"Ah, compassionate Master Kenobi, you feel guilty, don't you? And most concerned," Dooku grinned, seeming to be teasing him. Kenobi didn't even bother to look at him, never mind attempt a retaliation.

"What troubles you, Master Jedi? Oh wait…you are no master yet," Dooku continued artfully, "And with a reckless Padawan, as I've heard that young Skywalker is proving, I'm not convinced you ever will be one…"

"_Shut up_!" Kenobi snapped, cringing as his sudden movement incurred the force field to send more electric shocks through his body, "Anakin's a good person – it's the Masters who've had Padawans that turn out like you that I pity!"

Dooku just snickered callously, "Anakin's a good person…for _now,_" he retorted obscurely, leaving his sentence there.

Kenobi just scowled at him; he was desperate for some respite, and just wanted the Count to go away.

"What price did Senator Amidala have to pay to free me?" he asked drearily, changing the subject.

Dooku just stared at him for the moment, sniggering pitilessly under his breath.

"What price did she have to pay?" Kenobi demanded sharply, enduring the extra pain his exertions sent through his body.

The Count smirked with conceited contentment, and said superciliously, "She has agreed to join my movement."

Kenobi's visage went taut with shock and rage, "What did you do to her?" he challenged.

Dooku only snickered again, amused by the futility of Kenobi's vocal assaults upon him, "You think I did not win her over honestly?" he asked deftly, hooking his thumbs into the top of his belt in a unperturbed manner.

Obi-Wan inhaled steadily, trying to compose himself, "'Honesty' fell from your lexicon long ago…" he growled.

A suave grin pricked up at the corners of Dooku's mouth, and he chuckled once more beneath his breath, "My, you are an amusing one."

"What did you do-?" Kenobi was about to repeat, getting tired of the Count's circumlocution of the matter, but Dooku finally interrupted with a decent response, bellowing in his awe-inspiring tone of voice, "I told her the truth, Obi-Wan! The truth _you_ would not accept! I showed her what was left for the future of the Republic, and laid her options before her – she chose to join me! I think that she was the wise one."

Kenobi wouldn't take merely that for an answer, "And I bet you intimidated her, and gave her no other choice!" he retorted, his every word becoming an effort now.

Dooku walked close up to him, and stared up into his eyes, "Believe what you will, my boy," he snarled, his voice unnerving, "But the truth stands."

There was a pause. The humming of Obi-Wan's force field thrummed in the lull.

"So, now what?" Kenobi asked quietly, "You're going to let me go?"

The Count stepped away from his captive, and said gruffly, "In a manner of speaking…"

"With Anakin and Padmé?" he added.

"The boy, yes. The lady, no," the Count replied minimally.

Kenobi shook his head as much as his low strengths would allow; "I won't leave without her," he snapped obstinately.

"She chose to join me, Obi-Wan," Dooku stated firmly, "And, by doing so, enabled your release. If you don't accept this offer of freedom, then I have no choice but to assume that you wish to remain in custody."

"I am not prepared to leave Senator Amidala here with you," Kenobi repeated solemnly, glaring at Dooku as hard as he could.

"She is no Senator of the Republic now. She is one of us, who are at the helm of a movement striving for a more orderly galaxy," Dooku sternly snarled, "So except it, and go free – a heavy risk for me to take, I'm sure you understand – or stay here and die."

"You would sentence Qui-Gon's Padawan to death?" Obi-Wan queried.

"Your Master may have been my apprentice," the Count retorted, "But you are no Padawan of mine. I will not be won over through such petty coercion, Kenobi. You do not regard me with sympathy because I was your Master's teacher, now do you? So don't expect me to regard you with anything other than disenchantment, and – to be quite frank – mortification."

He stormed about and marched to the cell door. It opened at his beckoning, and he paused by its open doorframe; he turned back to Kenobi for one last time, "So, I gather you have chosen death?" he asked brusquely.

Obi-Wan swallowed, "Yes," he nodded impassively.

The count brushed his cloak behind him in an irate gesture, yet his emotions were unclear, "Then so be it," he said.

*******************************************************************************************

**A**nakin hung steadily in his own prison cell, identical to that in which his Master was imprisoned. He wasn't quite so drained, having not been in the cell for half as long, and also seeing that he was full of energy. He couldn't deny that he already felt a little weak though, and the electrical surges passing through his body did hurt.

He looked up, hearing his own cell door open – it was Padmé. His face brightened, and he smiled faintly, quietly saying, "Padmé…" He had wondered what had happened to her when he had been carted off in one direction, and Padmé forced on in another.

She smiled half-heartedly back, entering the cell alone. Anakin frowned, immediately recognising that she wasn't herself. She seemed rattled, unfocused, and on edge, and glanced to her side in a most nervous gesture that was totally out-of-character. 

"Are you all right?" Anakin queried, most concerned for her, "What happened? Where'd they take you?"

She clutched herself closely, rubbing her own arms, and slowly looked up into Anakin's face, "You're going free, Ani," she said.

Anakin's brow furrowed, none of this making sense, "I am?" he mused unsurely; he monitored Padmé's body language closely – there was much more to this that she hadn't yet even tried to tell him, "How, Padmé? What did you have to do to free me?" he gently asked.

She paused for a long time, and inhaled deeply, staring at the metallic lattice upon the cell floor. Anakin was desperate to know what was going on, and just wanted to hold Padmé in his arms to comfort her – he however allowed her to answer in her own time, trying his best to remain patient.

"I'm sorry, Ani," she finally began to whisper.

Anakin frowned, looking hard at her face.

"I had to join…_him_…" she sighed anxiously.

" 'Him'?" Anakin queried.

Padmé nodded tensely, "Yes…Count Dooku."

Anakin wanted to know more and quickly, but couldn't help but see how traumatised Padmé was. He decided to try and be as civilised and gentle as possible – he didn't want to hurt her any more than she was hurt already, "What did he do to you, Padmé?" he asked serenely.

She looked down again, rubbing her arms, breathing nervously, "I'm so scared, Anakin," she admitted tearfully, "I'm so messed up!" She wiped her eye, determined not to show weakness, "I don't know what's wrong with me…but when I'm around him, I…I _can't_ control myself…"

Anakin looked at her, his eyebrow rising in a little alarm.

Padmé noticed this, "No, not like that, Ani," she hastened to add, "It's just that…well, I can't seem to do what I want to when he's near me…I can't feel what I know I should be feeling…"

She looked up, trying to remain composed, "When he _touches_ me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body; I feel cold inside, and scared…I've _never_ felt like it before. I know that I want to break away from him, but I _can't_ – something stops me! I _can't_!"

She wiped her eyes once again, "Anakin, I'm just so frightened! How does he do it?"

Anakin was pent up with rage, "I don't know Padmé," he admitted, shaking his head a little, "But I'm gonna make him pay if he's hurting you!" He looked down upon her considerately, "You can't join him, Padmé! Look what he's done to you already! He's evil…a maniac! I can just tell!"

She sighed, looking down, "He's powerful, Anakin; but even so, I thought Jedi could only control the weak-minded? How is he manipulating _me_…?"

Anakin paused, cringing as a painful jolt from the prison force field pulsated over his head, making his mind ache, "I don't know Padmé," he confessed, "But I know you're far from weak-minded…"

"I just don't get it, Ani. I can usually remain strong under pressure for so long, but he just got to me so quickly," she explained emotionally, becoming unsure with herself, "I don't understand!"

"Don't let him get to you, Padmé!" Anakin urged her, "Don't join him! He's rotten to the core!"

"I have to join him," she replied with penitence.

"Why?" Anakin queried.

She looked hard into Anakin's eyes, "Because I can't go back to the Republic," she explained distressfully, "It's under the control of the Sith Lord!"

Anakin was momentarily stunned by her revelation, but frowned it off with incredulity, "Impossible," he stated certainly, "The Jedi would know if it were! There's no way a Sith could control the Republic." He looked at Padmé, and saw the fear in her eyes resurface, "He told you this, didn't he?" he deduced angrily, "That _bastard_ told you this!"

"He's not lying, Anakin!" she said, "I know it sounds crazy, but…"

"Don't let him cloud your mind, Padmé!" Anakin went on, "If he can manipulate your actions, like you said, then don't you think he might be able to influence your mind, too?"

"Anakin, you're not helping…"

"Wouldn't you rather _die_ than join him? The Republic needs you, Padmé! Don't abandon it…"

"Anakin, there's still a chance that I can save the Republic from the side of the Separatists! I can't go and serve a Sith Lord!"

Anakin looked at her severely, "And who is this 'Sith Lord'?" he asked vigorously, "Does 'almighty Dooku' know this, too?"

Padmé hesitated – she couldn't tell Anakin it was Palpatine, not so soon after his mother's death… he wouldn't be able to handle it. Anakin and the Chancellor were close friends, and to reveal to him that a man he both admired and respected was the villain at the heart of the Republic's woes would destroy him.

Anakin scoffed, taking her silence as a 'no', "I guess not," he said.

"I'm freeing you, aren't I?" she said to him, "I'm doing the only thing I believe I can do – don't think I like it, Anakin, but sometimes we have to do things we don't appreciate. I'm trying to do what is best for my people. And I'm relieved that you and Obi-Wan will at least be safe…"

Anakin felt so wound up, and was about to reply, when the door to his cell again hissed open. Anakin glanced up, and watched a tall, aristocratic yet elderly man enter; Anakin frowned unsurely – was this the infamous Count Dooku?

"Ah… it's 'Anakin', isn't it?" he asked, his voice distinctly deep; he stopped beside Padmé, and smiled warmly toward him – yet there was something ominous about his smirk. Anakin glared hatefully at the old man, and his anger only increased as he noticed Padmé flinch at this guy's presence.

"Anakin Skywalker?" the man continued, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, that's right," Anakin hissed in response; he couldn't deny that the man had a powerful air about him; the room did suddenly feel a lot closer, "You must be 'Dooku'," he added curtly.

"Indeed," the Count replied, seemingly unimpressed with the young Jedi's conduct, "And you need some manners. Don't they teach you that at the temple anymore? I think I deserve some respect now I've endeavoured to have you freed, due to Miss. Padmé's agreement to join me."

He stepped behind the Senator, placing his hands on her shoulders. Amidala closed her eyes, shuddering in response to his chilling touch.

"Get off her," Anakin ordered, hammering Dooku with a hard stare.

The Count raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?" he growled.

"You heard," Anakin snarled, "Get off her! She doesn't like it, can't you see?"

"No, I can't," he replied casually, intentionally rubbing her shoulders to anger the young Padawan. Padmé cringed, the dark emptiness of the Count's touch creeping through her body, the numb control he had over her falling back into place.

Anakin sensed the darkness and the titanic Force-strength of him, watching him manipulate the woman he loved. His fuse sparked, and he tried in vain to viciously lunge at the Separatist leader, "_Stop it_! _Stop it_, you _bastard_!!" he yelled violently, but was restrained by the force field prison. His efforts to free himself only resulted in the field implicating even more painful shocks upon him, making him cry out in agony, and fall back into a still poise. He glared at Dooku, fuming with rage at the wickedness of this man.

"Watch your mouth, young one," the Count snapped, reasonably unmoved, "She has agreed to join my cause, and in return, free you. Don't you respect the choice she has made?"

"Only because you made her join! Telling her _slander _about a Sith Lord in the senate, and controlling her with your perverted powers!" he snarled fiercely, his face rigid with frenzy, his fists curled into tight balls.

Little seemed to break Dooku's patience – he was skilled in this art, "Alike your Jedi friends, you are blinded by your own self-confidence. I haven't lied to her, nor have I controlled her – her mind is too strong to break. She is just a smart young woman; I think you could learn a lot from her."

"Are you going to let me learn from her?" Anakin sneered, "Because I'm not leaving! I'd rather die than leave Padmé here with you!!"

"You refuse to leave then?" he asked nonchalantly, holding the suffering and disorientated Amidala back into his chest.

"I will only leave with Padmé by my side," he stated unquestionably.

"I offered your Master freedom too, young Anakin – he also chose death," the Count replied sternly.

Padmé suddenly became alert, and broke free from Dooku's hold – both mental and physical. She stepped away from him, and turned to face him, "What?" she gasped, "Death? You said you'd to let them go! You said they could go free!"

Anakin looked from Padmé to Dooku, his face firm and unyielding.

"My dear," the Count sighed contemptuously, "I can't let them free if they won't bloody well _go_."

"I'm not going anywhere without Padmé! I'm never going anywhere without her again!" Anakin shouted at the Count, "You can't take her away from me!!"

The Count rolled his eyes, "Fine, young Skywalker, if that is your choice…"

Padmé shook her head, "No! You said you'd let them go! You said!" she screamed, looking at him, feeling even more deceived.

"Padmé, listen," he snapped sharply, grasping her by an arm, and pulling her toward him, "I've offered them freedom. They won't go. I have, therefore, no choice but to hand them over to Poggle the Lesser…and they will then be inevitably executed."

"You promised!!" she repeated, grasping his black shirt in a threatening gesture, "You gave your word!"

"I've done all I can," he said unemotionally, staring at her stiffly.

She looked at him with absolute disbelief, shaking her head, and sliding down to her knees, feeling tears well up again in her eyes; she had never felt so helpless or alone.

"Don't give up, Padmé," Anakin said to her, "Don't let him get the better of you."

The Count pulled the Senator roughly to her feet, and glared viciously at Anakin, "Leave now, or die, boy!" he barked one last time.

"I'd rather die than leave Padmé here with you!" he retorted again.

"It's your choice," the Count shrugged, pushing Padmé on roughly out of the cell, and leaving young Skywalker alone.

**                                                                                         TBC…**


	3. The Treaty and the Trial

**Author's Notes:** Thankyou for your continuing support, everyone! It's really encouraging. On a side note, I can't update _every_ day - it's not humanly possible, especially with school and _two other fanfics on my back!_

**Seth**: Again, thankyou. I, too, love darker stories - life isn't always (infact, is hardly _ever) peachy, and I like to show it. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but we wouldn't have drama without it..._

**Skywalker-Blue**: I must write well if it gets you so fired up! ^_^ Thankyou! 

**Merrymoll**: '_Scmucks?' LOL - I like that word. I'll try to keep updating as fast as I can!_

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 3**

**P**admé was upset. She hung her head as she was urged along by the Count through yet more labyrinthine passageways of the Geonosian Hives. Her feet panned emptily against the metallic grilling upon the floor - she felt numb inside; she had been shackled by chains earlier - now she was fettered by Dooku's intangible powers.

They ascended a short flight of earthen steps, and stepped out into a sunlit arcade. The sunlight failed to even move Padmé this time, however, her moral was so low. Just remembering the last look she had seen on Anakin's face…watching him hung there, helpless, and ready to die…it was painful. She felt so insensate, so alone, and still as though her mind was not her own.

A winged Geonosian fluttered up from below, by the edge of the pathway, making it evident to Padmé that they were on an upper level of the Hive. If one looked over the barrier that bordered this promenade, they'd see a substantial drop below, rimmed with avenues of other, lower floors.

She felt like a child being ushered along by an impatient parent, with the Count gripping her tight and forcefully under her arm. She finally looked up to him, focusing on her surroundings a little more – he didn't look back; he seemed to be concentrating on where he was going.

She was about to ask (after debating with herself inside her head whether or not to talk to this man) what was happening now, when he turned a sharp corner from off the path into a side room. They descended a refined, furnished flight of steps, walked around a metallic-looking, crimson pillar, and then entered into a large conference room. And here they stopped.

In the centre of this room was a large, circular table ringed with seats, many of which were currently occupied. The room was otherwise quite basic, having the typical deep red-sandstone walls engraved with the twin-sickle border.

Padmé looked over the gathering a little self-consciously, feeling embarrassed to be there;  all assembled turned and looked at her, mumbling to their aides, or to the person sat next to them. She swallowed – where had the Count brought her, now?

"Ah, greetings Ladies and Gentlemen," Dooku nodded courteously with a pleasant smile; he took a seat at the table head, with Jango Fett stood to his right, flanking him like a bodyguard. Padmé was forced to stand by his left, and felt quite out of place.

The Count looked about, noticing that Poggle was still absent. He raised his eyebrows in a personal shrugging gesture, and continued regardless of the Archduke's absence; "So, the time has come," he declared eloquently, "You have all decided – wisely, I may add – to pledge your allegiances to the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and join the thousands of other star systems and organisations aiming to achieve a brighter future for this downtrodden galaxy.

"Now is not a time to idly sit back and watch events ensue, as you are all aware – it is a time where one must strive to do what is best for themselves, their associates, and the galaxy; it is a time when one must choose between the Republic and the Separatists; it is a time when we must look to the future, and do what we believe is right for it. By joining the Confederacy, you have made that move for the future – the move in the right direction. We are now at our most powerful, and everyday we can see that the Republic only crumbles more, to the suffering of all absent-minded enough to stay within it. We have arsenal at our disposal, should we feel the need to use such force against the failing constitution of Palpatine, but, more importantly, have an exceptional range of influential individuals on our side – what more power could we ask for?"

Viceroy Gunray, sat with his aide in the far corner, could hold his tongue no longer; since the Count had entered the room, he'd had his canny, red eyes set upon Amidala, wondering why his arch-nemesis was amongst those present in the room; "What is the meaning of this, Count?" he blurted, storming up onto his feet, and pointing angrily at the Nubian Senator, "Why is _she _amongst your prospective Confederacy allies?"

The other members were equally inquisitive, and looked to Dooku for answers. The Count was momentarily unmoved.

"I said that I wanted her head on my desk!" Nute ranted on, frantically gesticulating with his hands, "Not attached to her body and stood by it!"

Dooku's gaze tightened, and he stared sternly at the Neimoidian, lounging back in his seat; he was most annoyed by Nute's outburst, and Padmé could feel it, as an extra weight from his rage piled on top of his invisible constraint of her. 

"There's been a change in circumstance, _Viceroy_," he growled, his voice unnerving. He effortlessly commanded authority in the room, leaving no wonder as to how he had become such a popular and respected leader; "And," he continued with a gentle menace, leaning forward and placing his hands onto the tabletop, "I wasn't under the impression that this _was_ your desk..."

All the others assembled turned to look at Nute, like a class of children would look upon a delinquent who had just been rebuked by the teacher. 

"I refuse to sign your treaty whilst she lives, Count," Gunray continued, his voice faltering slightly under pressure, "We had an agreement!"

Dooku looked at him with a slight vexation, "I'm disappointed to hear that, Viceroy," he said in a continually measured tone. Padmé watched the composure of the Count, and noticed the huge difference between his equanimity and Gunray's consternation - breaking the will of the Viceroy seemed to have been no hard task for him. It made Padmé recall how all too easily she, too, had broken under his will earlier – but it had taken a little more than mere paralinguistics to rein her in…

She wished she could say he hadn't dispirited her at all, but she couldn't.

Padmé looked over to Gunray, staring into his eyes, "So you will run back to the Republic?" she asked him. The gathering was surprised to hear her speak, and she even caught Dooku off-guard with her contribution. She continued, "I'm sure they'll be happy to have you back, especially after the trouble you caused ten years ago, Viceroy."

Nute hesitated, pursing his lip, his anger toward the Senator boiling beneath his scaly skin.

Dooku rose to his feet; being an exceptionally tall human being, he could look the naturally lofty Neimoidian straight in the eyes from across the table, "She makes a good point, Viceroy – where will you turn when the two main factions of the galaxy are against you?"

Gunray was too cowardly to take his complaint further – he didn't want to mess with the Separatist leader; no one in their right mind took Dooku on in debate – he was too crafty in that department. Nute gradually returned to his seat, though still far from pleased with the Senator's presence – he would forever hold her a grudge.

Dooku turned to Padmé, nodding to her in approval. Padmé made no obvious reaction in response, and just looked down, indecisive about what she had just done; she felt that she would have to at least try and integrate with these Separatists if she was to fight with them for the future of the Republic, but cooperating so soon might not have been the best move to make.

"So, now that the Viceroy has had his spat, let's get down to business..," the Count said, making a blatant shot at Nute, and speaking up to the whole gathering, "Today is the day you will become part of the Confederacy – today is the day that you sign up for a more prominent and promising future to this galaxy, a galaxy neglected by the Jedi, and further corrupted by the Chancellor's wretched grip!"

He began to circumnavigate the table, pacing behind each seated person, "All of you gathered here today – representatives of the Commerce Guild, the Intergalactic Banking Clan, the Techno Union, the Corporate Alliance, and Senators Nudo and Tikkes from the Republic - will now sign their part away to our movement! Welcome to the beginning of a glorious future!"

He completed his orbit of the table, and turned to Amidala. He placed a hand upon one of her shoulders, and urged her forward. The assembly looked upon the Count as he smiled fondly at the young Nubian, seeming to offer her support; "I noticed a few 'discontented' looks from you all when I escorted this here Senator into the room," he said, his voice a little more subdued, glancing again toward Padmé briefly, "But she is here on the same conditions as the rest of you. Yes, a Senator who was once against us has now joined us! I believe that this conversion embodies what hope there is for the galaxy's future! This young Senator has seen sense, and come over to the Confederacy, and with us now aims to rebuild this galaxy's dilapidated government... if we can turn one, we can turn another! Our cause is gradually winning them all!"

Amidala looked across all the varied eyes fixed upon her, the atmosphere feeling discreetly tense and heavy. Each of the representatives gathered sized her up with varying amounts of reluctance.

_["It is your choice, Count, who you allow into our midst,"]_ Shu Mai of the Commerce Guild said in her high-pitched tongue, _["I respect your decision, and welcome the Senator to our alliance."]_

Dooku threw her a charismatic smile, "Thankyou, milady," he nodded to the Guild's president, "I can always count upon your openness of mind."

"I was under the impression that she was fighting against the _Military Creation Act_," Wat Tambor of the Techno Union warbled electronically.

Padmé had already noticed that most of the dignitaries here weren't intent on addressing her personally.

"Yes, she was," Dooku replied, "But we all knew that that was in vain… it will be passed no matter what opposition there is – and this army will then be abused. War is inevitable. But if it is a war for our future, and for the future of generations to come, then is it not worth fighting for? There are so many things we need to improve before our time on this mortal plain passes – let us be remembered as the ones who made the Republic into a model and functioning people!"

"Here, here!" San Hill of the Banking Clan trilled in his distinguished tone, waving his hand about haughtily.

Dooku nodded to him, "And to show that we all have the utmost trust in one-another, Senator Amidala will sign this Treaty, between organisation, body or person and the Confederacy, first."

Padmé's eyes widened, and she turned to him in astonishment, "First?" she gasped, "Now?"

"Yes, _my lady_," Dooku replied slowly, smiling at her steadfastly.

Jango grimaced beneath his helmet, stood silently behind the Separatist leader; he was astounded by the Count's abrupt conversion of the Senator to the Confederate cause, and he wasn't sure quite how the man did it. Everyone had their skills, and swaying people to his cause – whether through oral influence or by vicious force – was Dooku's speciality.

Suddenly, entering the conference room came Poggle the Lesser. The Geonosian slowly paced in, tapping his cane upon the floor, and looked across the gathering. He took his seat by the Count's, passing him dazedly; _["I don't know what came over me,"]_ he said with obvious befuddlement, _["I just had the sudden urge to go for a long walk…"] _

Padmé watched Dooku's face prick up with a sly, meaningful smirk. He opened his hand to an empty chair the other side of his own, seating Amidala, before retaking his own seat, "Well, you know, Archduke," he beamed dryly, "We all get these '_urges'_ sometimes…"

Amidala disliked the suggestiveness in the Count's tone, and opted to just look down at the table infront of her instead; she immediately noticed how high-tech it was, with a little computer console fitted before each chair. It was dully illuminated from below with large panels of light, too.

"We are about to sign the treaty with all these fine people," Dooku continued, opening his hand out to the gathering. Many were customers of the Geonosian Droid Foundries, so it hadn't been too hard to win them over to the cause – though he hadn't spoken of it now, he had promised them improved profits from this future galaxy, and a hint of capitalism, too.

_["Excellent,"]_ Poggle nodded, _["And the Jedi… did you set them free?"]_

Dooku's eyes lit up, "Goodness, no Archduke!" he said blithely, "It's not that I didn't want to; it's just the blasted things wouldn't go!" 

He laughed insensitively, and Poggle chuckled too_, ["Oh, excellent!"]_ the Geonosian said, slapping a hand onto the table top in gesture, _["Then the execution is still on! The Hive _will_ be pleased! It's such a long time since we've had the opportunity of putting outsiders to death! They love to see alien peoples suffer!"]_

"Yes," Dooku sighed, his smirk remaining; he looked down to the table centre in a brief moment of thought.

Padmé frowned toward him – none of that had sounded good.

_["Then make things hasty, Count,"]_ Poggle said, rubbing his hands together_, ["I have an execution to organise!"]_

"Of course, Archduke, bear with me," he nodded, returning his gaze to the Geonosian.

Padmé slowly looked back to him – his manner was so polite and commendable…it made the fact that he could be so downright evil most agonising to believe.

He clicked his fingers. Jango left the room, and a few moments later, returned with a piece of parchment – it was a most unusual sight in such a technologically advanced age, but, despite even the level of technology that existed, a treaty still had to be signed upon old-fashioned paper…

Dooku nodded to Jango, taking the parchment from him, "After you, milady," he said gently, handing Padmé the agreement and a writing implement. She looked at the contract blankly, swallowing hard, then glanced up to those around her – all eyes were on her. She paused, so unsure and doubtful.

_["Don't they teach you humans to write in the Republic any more?"]_ Poggle snapped impatiently, monitoring her hesitation, making a sarcastic remark with full knowledge that the Senator couldn't comprehend him.

Dooku glanced back to Poggle, "Give her chance, Archduke…she's had an eventful day," he stated.

Padmé held the pen in her hand, and slowly looked back to the Count again. He stared hard at her – his gaze was harsh, but the aura that emitted from him was supportive and encouraging. He made a very slight nod toward her.

Padmé took a deep breath, and put the pen onto the paper…

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**I**t had been but a few hours since she and Anakin had been captured, and things were already spiralling beyond her control. She had signed the Treaty, aligning Naboo – but more importantly, herself – with the Confederacy of Independent Systems… the 'rebels', to be brief, who had broken away from the Republic. It still hurt that she'd had to do that, but there really was no alternative.

She only wished Anakin could have seen it that way, and gone free, instead of remain here, trying to be a hero, and die at the Geonosians' hands. Obi-Wan likewise; she felt so guilty. But now was not the time to lose hope. There was always hope.

Coming out of deep thought, Padmé looked about herself as she entered into the court chamber.

She reckoned that she had never felt so disorientated, as far as buildings went, in her life! Walking around the Geonosian Hives was something akin to walking about a house of mirrors; she had been marched from the Droid Foundries to Dooku's Office, then to Poggle's quarters, through to the Stalagasin Hive prison cells, on to the conference room…and now into the courtroom. And everywhere looked so alike! It wasn't so much the final destinations that looked the same, but more the passageways between them; the Geonosians just must have naturally gifted navigation skills, because she sure wouldn't be able to work out her way around this subterranean maze, even if given a hundred years in which to do so.

The courtroom was large, and wide; it consisted of three tiers of spectator stands (basically, large sandstone ledges about the walls, with no seats or barriers) on which the working class of Geonosis could stand and watch from, and on the bottom floor, a dignitary spectator stand, complete with seating, which was where she was heading now, with the rest of the recent Separatist enrollers.

The floor was the focal point of the chamber, and was beautifully tiled, and on a par with the ground tier of stands; those on trial would stand there. At the head of the room, raised to the level of the second tier, was the judge's dock, carved from more sandstone. Sunlight streamed in through the roof above, but, despite that, the chamber was very dark in places. The main doors were at the back of the room, opposite the judge's dais – the accused would be lead in through these.

The atmosphere was livid with excitement as the lower class Geonosians crawled and fluttered into the stands. They all chattered to one another in their bizarre language, eagerly awaiting the trial of the outsiders. Meanwhile, Padmé was sat down in the dignitary boxes, between Count Dooku and Passel Argente of the Corporate Alliance.

There was a clear social gap in Geonosian society, with the workers and dignitaries placed so far apart, and in distinctly different seating. But it was an accepted system; the upper classes – of the likes of Poggle, which were few and far between – were of the 'laissez faire' variety, and the workers were quite content to serve the upper classes, and live the inferior way of life.

Amidala felt fidgety and uncomfortable – she didn't want to sit here through this trial of her friends, Obi-Wan and Anakin. She turned to the Count next to her, feeling a little more self-assured in his presence for the time being, "How can you make me sit through this?" she discreetly questioned him.

The crowds continued to gather, the side doors to the hall open for the public to come in through. Everyone was eagerly awaiting the entrance of Poggle into the judge's booth.

The Count gradually turned his head to her, "I thought you believed in justice, milady?" he asked her quietly.

Nute Gunray was sat the other side of Dooku (Padmé speculated so that the Count could keep an eye on him), and she watched him warily for a moment, before retorting, "You call this shambles of a court room justice?"

Dooku merely grinned at her tenacity, replying, "Well, we must respect the cultures of others." He then settled back into his seat, waiting for the appearance of the Archduke.

Amidala sighed downheartedly, shaking her head in denial, before looking down.

Suddenly, the courtroom silenced – and Poggle the Lesser made his entrance into his stand. He looked over the spectator stands slowly – they were by now full of Geonosians, waiting to see the trial and execution of the outsiders. He then checked to see if his fellow Separatists were sat in their seats. Finding that they were, he signalled to a couple of armed, winged Geonosians at the back of the room; _["Bring forth the prisoners!"]_ he chirped.

The two guards nodded, and opened the main doors slowly. All the Geonosians began to hiss hatefully as the two prisoners were brought in, their hands shackled.

Padmé could only look up at them for a brief second, before pain and guilt took a hold, and pulled her shameful head down – she wished that she could rush out to them, and fix this mess; she wished that everything would just be okay.

Kenobi was clearly exhausted. He walked on unsteady feet, and his head was hung in a burdensome manner. Every breath he took was an effort, and every step he had to make was painful. Skywalker, on the other hand, was still quite lively, and thriving on the rage Dooku had fed to him. As they were ushered into the room by the two Geonosians – each, of which, were armed with electro-pikes. Anakin turned to see Padmé sat dejectedly by the silver-haired Count. He scowled profoundly, his brow deeply furrowing.

Noticing the vicious look he got from the young Padawan, Dooku purposely threw Anakin an arrogant smirk in return, silently taunting him. Anakin's lip twitched, his rage still burning fresh, and he made a sudden rush toward the Count, pushing his Geonosian escort out of the way and shouting angrily.

The entire crowd of Geonosians gasped, watching the energetic young captive make a dash toward the dignitaries. But it was in vain; Obi-Wan's escort flew speedily from the weary Jedi's side to intercept the unruly Padawan. With a swift flash of his electro-pike, he stunned Anakin, sending a bolt of electrical energy through his body. Ani faltered in shock, collapsing onto the floor, short of a few metres of the spectator boxes.

Padmé put her hands to her mouth, seeing the suffering Anakin was going through; she felt blameworthy for his unsound condition.

"Reckless, that one," Dooku commented conceitedly, and loud enough to enable Anakin to hear him. 

Unable to return to his feet whilst his body convulsed from the electrical surge, Anakin could only glare at the Count as he was hauled back to his feet, and dragged to the room's centre, ready for his trial.

Once things had again settled, and a couple more Geonosian guards had been drawn in to control the prisoners, Poggle began. He placed his hand onto the edge of the dock, and announced, _["Master and Apprentice Jedi, you have been charged and found guilty of espionage."]_

Kenobi stared at Poggle blandly from under his increasingly heavy eyelids, and Anakin made an equally chagrined expression – neither of them could understand the Archduke.

Padmé realised that her two friends, alike herself, could not comprehend Geonosian. She turned to the Count desperately, "They can't understand him!" she said, placing her hands over Dooku's arm to get his attention, "How can this possibly be considered a fair trial?"

Dooku looked down haughtily at her grip on his arm, and withdrew it, before looking into her visage in a self-aggrandizing way, "I don't think that being caught spying is fair, either, Senator – do you?" he asked her rhetorically, "They are only getting what they deserve."

She stared at him for a moment, before having to ask, "What did he say?"

Nute turned to look at Dooku suspiciously, monitoring his body language closely. The Count leant over toward Amidala, "He said your friends have been charged and found guilty of espionage."

Padmé gulped, pulling back a little, "Since when?" she queried, "When were they given a proper trial?"

Dooku stared hard at her, causing her will to buckle, making her look away; "Since Poggle says so," he whispered insensitively. He slowly sat back into his seat again, noticing Gunray's eyes upon him. The Neimoidian fast turned away, and Dooku just smirked knowingly.

"Aren't we going to get a translation here?" Anakin asked considerably impertinently, rousing a little from his stun; he was in an even fouler mood than he had been when he entered the courtroom, now.

The spectators chattered to one another. Poggle sighed, turning to look down at Dooku from his dock, _["Count Dooku, would you be so kind?"]_ he asked impatiently, annoyed by the two Jedis' lack of knowledge of his language.

"If you insist, Archduke," Dooku replied. He rose to his feet from his seat, and raised his voice, proclaiming, "Master Kenobi, young Skywalker, you have been charged with espionage, and found guilty."

Both Jedi, though incredibly weary, managed at least to throw the Count a pair of vicious scowls. Dooku simply consumed their rage, and took satisfaction from it.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, gathering his disarrayed senses, "You are committing an act of war, Archduke," he said drearily, trying to address the issues at hand with the Separatists, "I hope you're prepared for the consequences."

Poggle glared at the Jedi, feeling patronised, _["We build weapons, Master Jedi. That is our business! Of course we're prepared!"]_

Kenobi inhaled deeply, dropping to his knees, and lowering his head – he felt faint. Anakin watched his master protectively, and turned to Dooku, awaiting the translation.

The Count folded his arms across his chest, throwing Anakin another smirk, "We build weapons, Master Jedi. That is our business. Of course we are prepared," he paraphrased.

Anakin snorted in contempt, shaking his head gently with revulsion.

Gunray was getting fed up with these things, and rose to his feet. Padmé watched the Neimoidian warily, knowing he still had it in for her. Dooku threw the Viceroy a less than favourable look, too.

"Get on with it!" he demanded, "Carry out the sentence! I want to see them suffer! They deserve to after what they did to our Federation at Naboo!"

Anakin glared at the sycophantic Neimoidian, smirking briefly as the memory of his escapade in the Nubian starfighter returned to mind, when, at the mere age of nine, he'd infiltrated and destroyed the Federation's Droid control ship.

_["Yes, yes…"]_ Poggle sighed, noticing the crowds were itching to get on with things, too, _["You are hereby sentenced to death! Take them to the arena!!"]_

The crowds cheered, and already began to pour out to prepare for the big event.

Kenobi was pulled onto his feet, and two guards took a hold of each of the Jedi, and began to lead them out.

"What? _What_?" Anakin yelled toward the Count, as a commotion about him arose, "What did he say?"

Dooku looked at him hard, "Execution. Death," he stated short and sharply, watching the two Jedi wheeled out of the courtroom. The crowds continued to roll out, those with wings flying about in excitement.

Nute rubbed his hands together, "At least somethinggood will come out of today," he grimaced, turning and leaving the courtroom with the rest of the dignitaries. Padmé knew that his comment had been aimed at her.

She stood and looked up to the Count, "You're evil," she snarled, "How can you be so cold?"

"Life makes one cold," he replied, watching the prisoners escorted out of the far door, then dropping his line of sight to Padmé. She looked stern, but he could sense her heart breaking within – whose heart wouldn't if their friends had been sentenced to death infront of their eyes?

"You must be strong, as your Padawan friend earlier advised," he added, in a more subdued tone.

She looked down, unsure what to do, or how to act. Dooku raised his hand, and tipped her head up to face him, "You've made the right decision, Padmé. You're on the right side of the war."

"There is no right side in war," she said quietly, "War is wrong."

"It is, unfortunately, inevitable," he reminded her, "And I'm sorry for that…"

She glanced away, feeling tears well up within herself again – it finally hit her that she wasn't going to see Anakin and Obi-Wan again. The Count watched her carefully, and raised his arm, placing it about her shoulders, and pulling her into him. She felt the coldness of his touch, the dominance again, but she just ignored it – the empty feeling of losing her friends was more intense than that. She just cried – she didn't care whose chest she was crying into – and she prayed that there might be a small hope that her friends would survive.

**TBC…**

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**NB:** Inspiration for this scene came from the deleted scene '_Anakin & Padmé on Trial'_ from the awesome '_Clones_ 'DVD. Thanks to the guys and gals at Lucasfilm who refurbished it. ^_^


	4. Love Pledge

**Author's Notes:** There's a bit for both **Merrymoll** and **Skywalker-Blue** in here – your little story suggestions just seemed to fit with what I wanted to do in this chapter. I re-watched the Arena battle for inspiration of where to go now, and for what I needed to write about, and a great little scene came to mind – so see if you can spot the parts for you. ^_^ They're not substantial, but they're there.

**Seth:** I can't thank you enough for your kind reviews! You're a star! I'm glad you appreciate my writing – I've been taking more care and time with this story than any other fic I've _ever_ wrote. For example, the first part took at least 10 hours combined to put together – that's writing my ideas on paper, typing it up, reading it through, changing bits, editing bits, writing some more, proofreading again, and then uploading it. I'm glad people enjoy what I've written because I do put a lot of effort in.

**Liz:** You'll just have to keep reading to find out! ^_^

**Merrymoll:** Glad you liked the conference table – I've gotta admit that I actually _really_ like the character of Nute Gunray! I almost feel sorry for the guy!

**Skywalker-Blue:** Glad you like dark stories. Is it good that they affect you so much? 0_o Anyway, thankies for your continuing reviews!

And, as often as I proofread these chapters, some mistakes will _still_ get passed me! When you write something, you always miss your own mistakes! u_u

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 4**

**O**bi-Wan looked hard at the floor that was passing below his tremulous feet, unable to focus properly upon it; it didn't feel like metal any longer…it felt more like sand. He closed his eyes, his vision still shaky, and continued to pace on. He could remember being towed from the courtroom, but the rest, up until now, had been a blur – he'd lapsed back into a semi-meditative state in an attempt to regain some energy, so had allowed his feet to do the walking without his attention.

Two Geonosians escorted him along this dull passageway. Something about it was unlike the others – it was even craggier, and the floor, as Kenobi had correctly recognised, had not been plated with metallic grating – it was merely sand, the natural surface of the planet.

Anakin was being walked along behind his Master. He held his head high, though inside he was filled with fury and anger – and he directed that anger toward Dooku. That man may have had the outward appearance of a genteel and refined aristocrat, but Anakin could see beneath that façade. He recalled how nervous Padmé had been around the Separatist when he had entered into his cell. He remembered what Padmé had told him about that man:

'_When he touches me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body; I feel cold inside, and scared…I've never felt like it before. I know that I want to break away from him, but I can't – something stops me! I can't!'_

Anakin inhaled a rugged breath, trying to control his antagonism. His hands were still bound, and his escorts were still armed with electro-poles – struggling wasn't going to help him, even now in the face of death.

_'When he touches me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body'_

He swallowed, envisioning the smug countenance of the Count within his mind, and focusing all of his negative energy towards it.

_'When he touches me…'_

Anakin inhaled again through gritted teeth, his own mind toying with him; "I'll kill him," he hissed inconspicuously to himself. The most important thing in his life had been taken away by the Count – and that was Padmé. Without his mother, Anakin felt that there was no one else left that he was close to. Even his Master didn't fall into that category.

He'd been too weak to save his mother. And now he was too weak to save Padmé from this insidious monster. He wasn't going to let him get away with it!

Anakin glared at the back of Kenobi infront of him.

_'It's all Obi-Wan's fault! He's jealous! He's holding me back!'_

His own words now came back to haunt him – and now, when he had once again been pushed to the limits of his emotions, he still felt the same about his tutor. It was Obi-Wan's fault – he had held him back! If he'd just been stronger, he could have saved Padmé; he could have stopped Dooku from taking her from him, and from 'touching' her, and exploiting her with his sinister mind tricks.

_'You're not all powerful, Ani'_

_'Well I should be! Someday I will be…I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!'_

Someday wasn't soon enough.

Anakin looked down to the sandy floor briefly, before refocusing his mind, and blankly staring ahead – he would be the most powerful Jedi ever. And he would start today; he would save Padmé and kill Dooku. He would show Obi-Wan, and all of the rest of the Jedi Order who dared to frown down upon him, that he was more powerful than any Jedi! He didn't have time to wait – he had to become the strongest now.

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**D**rums were beating loudly in the arena, and the crowds chanted fiercely as they eagerly awaited the start of the public execution. Geonosians were blatant isolationists, and many were bred to despise those from the outside world – it was a glorious event when intruders were destroyed for daring to set foot upon their planet. These demanding sounds rumbled through the very foundations of the grounds, and could be heard, although muted, in the far reaches of the back passages, leading up to the spectator stands.

It was in a back alley that Padmé heard them. She followed the group of Separatists, lead by Poggle the Lesser, up a private passageway, leading to the dignitary box. The Archduke was giving them all a taste of Geonosian hospitality by taking them to view a public execution. To him it was an honour; but Geonosian culture didn't easily cross the boundaries of others.

The drums got increasingly louder as the party ascended the winding stairway toward the dignitary box, high up, at the head of the stadium.

Despite the short notice, the two Jedi were still to go out in spectacular style. Poggle had swiftly organised the revels, and had opted for the most lavish form of execution: death via wild, untamed beast. These poor creatures were taken in from the wild, abused and starved until they lusted blood and yearned for something to placate their empty bellies. They were then unleashed into the arena when the time came, and did the only thing they could – attack the 'food' placed before them. It was a fierce and gory death for any prisoners offered up as sacrifices. Poggle had selected a couple of his particular favourite creatures to destroy the Jedi: a Reek, a tri-horned, bull-like beast, and an Acklay, a crab-come-dinosaur combo. They were large, strong, and very hungry.

Whereas this event would serve as entertainment for the carnage-craving Geonosians, it would only serve as further, unbearable torment for Padmé. This day had just been one, long nightmare from which she could not wake. To hear your friends sentenced to death was one thing, but to watch them die as well was just plain inhuman! Padmé wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her sanity if this was all Separatist life had to offer. To think that this was merely a sports event to the Geonosians! She'd heard of respecting cultures, but this was ridiculous.

She looked up, walking toward the back of the procession as they slowly ascended a long, meandering flight of stairs. Passel Argente and his aide were directly behind Poggle, their black robes gliding after them; Gunray and his comrade were at their rear, followed by Shu Mai and her official, Techno Unionist Wat Tambor, ex-Senators Nudo and Tikkes, the smarmy San Hill, and finally Dooku and herself, flanked by Jango and son. 

Padmé looked about tensely, the passageway feeling tight, and almost as though it was closing in. The passage was quite narrow anyway, fitting only two abreast, and was incredibly dark. Being flanked on all sides by various individuals didn't help to give her any room, either; she knew that her unsound emotions were playing with her, and the strength of the Count's presence still hadn't ebbed, so was an additional pressure on her mind. 

The cheering and shouting from the arena became more clear, erupting down the walkway from the stands high above, and pounded in her head like an unyielding guilty conscience. Padmé swallowed, and felt herself begin to breathe rapidly. She looked up and about her quickly, sounds becoming muted echoes within her head; she felt overwhelmingly panic-stricken. The walls seemed now even closer than before, and the air seemed thin that she inhaled into her chest. She felt trapped. The sounds of the stadium thudded in her head – _boom, boom, boom_; claustrophobia – not something Padmé usually suffered from – was deciding to kick in.

She inhaled sharply, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, stopping in her tracks. The stairs seemed to swirl beneath her feet, and the wall felt slippery under her hand. She broke into a cold sweat, darkness encompassing her; she couldn't go through with this…she couldn't watch her friends die.

Dooku monitored her unsurely, sensing her unease some time before she buckled. He put a hand to her shoulder when she stopped, halting next to her, "Milady?" he asked her quietly.

She jumped, his touch sending a jolt of iciness through her veins, and leant harder onto the wall. Jango slowed behind his contractor, "My lord?" he asked, offering his support. Young Boba's eyes glanced up between the dark visage of the Count and the anxious countenance of the Nubian Senator curiously.

The Count waited for some kind of awareness to come into Amidala's eyes – it took a few seconds before she turned to look at him and recognised him, her wits returning to her. He held her shoulder tightly, keeping her steady, "Go on ahead," he said to the bounty hunter, turning to him briefly, "I'll deal with her."

Jango looked at the pale features of the Senator, feeling no remorse, only disgruntlement toward her obvious weakness. She wasn't exactly in a normal state of mind, though, but that was no excuse as far as Fett was concerned; "Yes, my Lord," he nodded obediently, pushing his son on ahead, aiming to catch back up with the rest of the delegation that had continued to walk up the passageway.

There was a short silence. 

Padmé stared across at Dooku, watching the dull light of the corridor reflect off his eyes. She inhaled deeply, taking large breaths, trying to calm herself, her heart racing. Dooku's presence remained a suffocating one, and his hold on her didn't seem to help soothe her at all. She swallowed, then finally managed to say in a rasping, breathless voice, "Please…"

The Count's brow furrowed ever so slightly; he was irresolute as to how to respond.

Now that it was just the two of them, Amidala's claustrophobia didn't seem so great, though the weight on her heart was just as heavy. She looked down, taking a deep gulp of air into her lungs, before hesitantly raising her hands; she hoped she could get round him in some way – she had, after all, nothing else to lose.

The Count monitored her, still unsure as to what she was doing. 

Padmé stared ahead, her eye line only reaching the upper torso of the Separatist leader, and slowly but surely placed her hands forward, flat onto his chest. She shuddered a little at the chill that traversed her body when she touched him, the cold emptiness of his power feeling more vigorous once more. She tried to hold his control over her mind off, and tried to remain focused – she knew that she must not let herself fall into his hands.

Dooku looked down at her curiously, continuing to remain silent.

Slowly rubbing her hands down his chest to his belt, then back up to his breast again, she went on to look longingly into his eyes, "Please," she repeated desperately, her voice still trembling from her emotional burden of the day, "Let me see my friends one last time."

She was trying to win him over now, and the Count knew it. He finally removed his hand from her shoulder, and replied gently, "You know I can't do that." He placed both of his hands over hers, holding them immobile against his chest.

She inhaled deeply, her hands feeling bitter as he clasped them; "Please!" she demanded urgently, trying not to choke on her emotions, "I need to see them! Or at least Anakin! I need to tell him something!"

"What worth will this knowledge be? He's only going to take it to his grave," the Count replied monotonously.

She shook her head, trying not to break into another tearful stint, "Please, Dooku!" she asked him, clutching his shirt in her hands beneath his grip, "Just this one last time! I'm never going to see them again – at least grant me this!"

**M**eanwhile, the Separatist company continued to walk on ahead. But it wasn't long until Gunray picked up on the Count's absence:

"That Count is incorrigible!" he moaned to his aide cantankerously.

"Maybe, but he is a man of incredible aptitude and authority," the aide replied in his distinctly deeper voice, "We need more people like him in the galaxy to bolster the causes of commerce."

Nute reluctantly nodded in response to his aide's comment, then called on to Poggle ahead, "Archduke! The Count seems to have been separated from our group. So, too, has Amidala, which goes without surprise…"

The party halted, and Poggle turned about to look upon Gunray, deciding to listen to his words; the Geonosian noted a definite suggestion of mistrust in the Viceroy's voice concerning the Count. He expected that the Neimoidian was just sore after being rebuked by their leader earlier – Gunray was notorious for being a whiner.

"She is nothing but a bane to us, that Senator from Naboo!" Nute continued whingeing, "We shouldn't have allowed the Count to unite her with us! It was only for the purpose of his lust and personal gain, not the Separatist cause at all!"

Jango raised his voice to the party, "The Nubian Senator seems unwell," he hissed through his helmet, placing his hands on his son's shoulders to keep him still, "The Count is tending to her."

"I'm sure," Gunray snorted.

_["Do not speak of the Count so,"]_ Shu Mai snapped at Nute, pointing an accusing finger toward him, _["He is not so petty of character…not like you Neimoidians!"]_

_["Enough!"]_ Poggle shouted, raising his hand in gesture, hoping to stop the divergence before a full-blown argument broke out, _["Jango, tell Serenn to come promptly – I have an execution that needs immediate starting. He is a guest of honour, and I will not begin without him."]_

Jango nodded, patting his son on the shoulder in a gesture telling the boy to remain where he was. He then turned and marched back off down the winding flight of steps. Boba watched his father disappear into the depths of the passage, then turned back to San Hill, the first man ahead of him.

"Well, I say," Hill stated snobbishly, placing his pale, thin hands onto his hips, "Whatever next?"

Boba frowned toward the Banking Clan representative, not sure what to think of him.

**D**ooku studied Padmé's visage carefully; her eyes were filled with tears and woe. He sighed slowly – could he really let her get by him like this?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, coming back down the twisting staircase. He turned and watched as Jango, in his glittering silver armour, appeared from the gloom.

The hunter walked up to the Count, briefly studying the state of affairs, before saying, "The Archduke asks that you return to the party speedily, my Lord. He wishes you to be present when the execution begins."

Dooku nodded gently, looking back at Padmé for a moment.

"And, I regret to say," Fett continued in a more hush tone, talking circumspectly to the Count alone, "The Viceroy has 'suspicions' of you, my Lord, concerning the Senator here."

The Count grinned grimly, "Doesn't he always have his 'suspicions'?" he rhetorically retorted, his voice taking on its unsettling edge. He stared intently into Padmé's troubled eyes, smiling coldly toward her; he was thinking… Padmé could almost see the cogs turning in his head, though she was fearful as to what exact thoughts were crossing his mind.

He slowly turned back to Jango, "Give me ten minutes," he said, "I have some…_'_unfinished' business to attend."

Fett hesitated, concerned about the disorderly Neimoidian, "My Lord, this squirming toad of a Viceroy has vile suspicions of –"

"I will not be bullied by others unfounded assumptions of my ambitions and aims!" he snapped, interrupting the bounty hunter, "Now go back to them! Tell them I will be with them shortly!"

Fett stared hard into the Count's eyes – he would kill most people who dared to talk to him like that, but not Dooku. It wasn't merely the fact that the Count was his latest benefactor, but more because he respected the Separatist leader and his stylishly efficient manner. Jango nodded a little, "Yes, my Lord," he said soundly, before marching back up the steps.

Padmé looked to Dooku almost with appreciation – had he decided to let her see her friends one last time? Had she managed to sway him over?

The Count exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and relaxing his stance, his head drooping downward a little, "I am risking a lot for you," he sternly said. He opened his eyes and looked hard at her.

"Thank you," she whispered. She pushed herself a little further, needing to sweeten the deal – and possibly mark the start of her comeback against him. She drew herself up, and pecked him on the cheek coyly. He looked at her with mild surprise, though still his emotions remained unclear. Padmé couldn't decide whether he had truly fallen for her act, or whether he'd just let her toy with him.

"Come," he nodded, beginning to step down the stairs, "We must be hasty."

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**T**he two Jedi and their Geonosian escorts began to reach the end of the long, sandy corridor. Now they could clearly hear the drums and the chanting from the crowded stadium into which they were entering. Traces of sunlight began to trickle into the hallway, indicating that they were near open ground. Obi-Wan forced his weary eyes up, and saw a doorway ahead, filled with daylight. Before the doorway was a cart, hovering above the ground on what must be a repulsorlift. It was harnessed to some reptilian beast of burden, and ridden by another Geonosian; this certainly didn't look good.

The two Jedi were brought to a stop by the cart. Anakin looked at it with a knowing dismay – this was the cart that would take him and his Master to their doom. He and Kenobi exchanged glances – Obi-Wan looked troubled and repentant for his Padawan, whilst Anakin just seemed stern and unmoved; he was sore at losing Padmé to the Count, and held his Master as a source of a lot of the problems that had transpired today.

The Geonosian guards grumbled and chirped to one another in their tongue, telling each other what to do, before Obi-Wan was prodded forward by the pike of one of his escorts, and forced to climb onto the cart. His legs were weary, and it took the aid of one of the guards to get him into place. Following this, the guards moved to get Anakin onto the cart. They took one of his arms each, and urged him forward, more wary of him after his outburst in the courtroom. Anakin didn't struggle – he was too proud to do that.

"Wait."

The pair of guards halted, and turned their heads to the opening of a side passage, to the right of the corridor. Out of the darkness of this tributary stepped Count Dooku. Anakin looked at the Count, and his lip rose in antipathy and hate. Kenobi, too, perceived the distinct voice of the Separatist leader, and turned his heavy head to look upon him, curious as to what he was up to now.

Dooku looked over the two guards, and gestured for them to come toward him, "Bring the boy here," he ordered, turning and walking down the side alleyway.

"What this time?" Anakin snarled at the Count as he was towed behind him, "You want to draw and quarter me first?" He wished he could tear him apart here and now.

"Silence boy!" he commanded stalwartly, "I'm doing you a superfluous and uncalled for favour."

He led the two Geonosians down the corridor, out into a small room, in which stood an overwrought and very rattled Padmé. Dooku gestured again toward the Geonosians, and they released the prisoner from their hold, but still held their pikes at the ready. Anakin looked at Padmé with a faint smile. Padmé returned the weak, yet meaningful smile, and looked briefly to Dooku.

"You have but a few minutes," he droned drearily, taking a few steps to the side of the room.

The two looked hard at one another, until Padmé just let herself go, and embraced him lovingly, holding him tight in her arms, "I'm sorry!" she cried overtly, "I'm so sorry!"

Anakin wished his hands weren't manacled – he wanted to hold her in return; "It's okay, Padmé," he quietly said. He knew things weren't okay, though.

Padmé pulled back from him a little so that she could look into his eyes. Anakin looked back at her, trying to offer her support with his strong gaze, though inside he was beginning to feel a little uneasy, "Be strong, Padmé," he said, "I know you can be. Try to remain strong."

He glanced to Dooku with odium, before swiftly looking back at Padmé, "Don't be afraid of the future," he added.

Amidala noticed the Count getting a little impatient already, but ignored him for the time being, "I'm not afraid Anakin. I just wish I was going with you."

"What? Padmé, can you hear yourself?" Anakin asked, surprised by her revelation.

"I'm not afraid to die, Ani," she told him. She hesitated, before going on to reveal, "Because I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life."

Anakin's brow furrowed deeply, unable to comprehend, "What are you talking about?" he asked her discreetly.

Padmé swallowed her pride, and said straight, "I love you."

Dooku looked from Amidala to Skywalker, his gaze tightening a little.

Anakin was taken aback, and after getting past the shock, he finally managed to ask, "You love me?" He paused, then said, unsurely, "I thought we had decided not to fall in love…that we'd be forced to live a lie…and that it would destroy our lives."

Padmé looked down hesitantly, a tear rolling down her face – she couldn't cope with all that was happening to her at the moment. She slowly returned her gaze to Anakin's, "I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway."

Dooku swallowed, folding his restless hands across his broad chest. He looked to the two confounded Geonosian guards, who were itching to get the boy into the arena. They fiddled with their electro-pikes impatiently, their wings twitching.

"Mine's about to be destroyed, you mean," Anakin reminded her. He then mumbled, "Or at least they think so…"

Padmé shook her head, ignoring his latter comment, "I have no life without you, Ani," she admitted timorously. She placed her hands gently onto his chest, another tear rolling down her countenance.

The Count's lip twitched as he monitored their conversation, and he drew his hands into tight fists, holding them stiffly against his torso.

"I truly, deeply love you," Padmé disclosed to Anakin devotedly, "And I wanted to let you know."

The two drew together, kissing one another adoringly with true love.

The Count's hands dropped by his side, and he marched forward, tearing them apart; "Take him _away_!" he shouted maliciously, wrenching Padmé away from the Padawan.

"No! Anakin!" Padmé screamed as the two Geonosians thrust their pikes toward Anakin, giving him brief electrical jolts. They forced him back toward the corridor that lead to the arena entrance.

"Anakin!" Padmé continued to yell, as the Count clasped her back against his chest forcefully; tears fell from her face as she writhed in Dooku's tyrannical grasp, "I love you Ani!"

"I'll always love you, Padmé!" Anakin yelled, "Don't forget that! _Never_ forget that!!"

He struggled against the Geonosians, growling at them, before shouting one last thing to her, "I will see you again, Padmé! I won't let them take you away from me!"

And with that, he disappeared back down the passageway.

"I'm sorry, Anakin!" she shouted once more, before her tears reinstated their hold over her. She cried deeply, wilting in the Count's hold. He was in no mood to accommodate her despair this time, however, "Come along!" he snapped, lifting her up, and placing her back on her feet, ready to head back the way they had come.

"_No_!" she shrieked, "Let me go!"

"You've had your time," Dooku snarled vehemently, pushing her on ahead of him, forcing her in the right direction.

"Please, no!" she wept, turning and trying to run back. She only met the barrier of Dooku's body as she strove to get past him. He took a grasp of her shoulders, holding her steady until she stopped struggling against him. 

Padmé soon realised her resistance was futile, and she just grasped his shirt in her hands again in a final hopeless gesture. "Please, no," she sobbed as her knees failed beneath her, and she began to slide downward towards the floor. The Count clutched her under her arms, and hauled her back onto her feet, "Pull yourself together!" he snapped.

She didn't listen to him; she just hung limp in his arms, numb inside, feeling that all she could do was cry. She'd never cried so much before in such a short space of time in her life.

Dooku saw her weakness, but knew it wasn't the time to take advantage of it. He took her up in his arms, and began to carry her back to the dignitary box. She would watch her friends die, even if he had to carry her to the dais in order for her to see it.

**TBC…**

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**NB**: Some text from the AotC screenplay used. But modified, of course! ^_^


	5. Enter the Arena

**Author's Notes:** I found this chapter _very_ difficult to write (hence why it's taken so long to appear) because it verged on being boring. A lot of it has to be based on the events of the _Clones_ film, yet I've still got to make it my own. It is, of course, the arena battle, and I've done my best with it. I haven't even got to the end, but it reached 4000 words, and I thought it best to take it over into another chapter. Sorry that this isn't the greatest of innovation – hey, I copped off the film for most of it! – but it's one of those linking chapters which you can'tdo without, I'm afraid… things will get more interesting in the next chapter, I'm positive… I just had to get there first! ^_^

I have, however, (this is kinda irrelevant…) recently watched _The Man with the Golden Gun_… so I'm filled with inspiration for a cold-hearted Chris Lee character, of the likes of which I've made Dooku in this story. ^_^  More of that will come out next time, too.

**Seth**: Again, thankyou! What more can I say?

**Liz:** She came clean with Anakin, yeah, but her troubles aren't over. ^_^

**Skywalker-Blue:** Aww, this chapter _won't_ make you cry, believe me! I didn't get _nearly_ as far as I wanted to! Maybe the next chapter, or the one after, or… I dunno. ^_^ Glad you're enjoying it, though.

**MerryMoll**: I don't get much further here, so watch this space for the resolution of certain conundrums! ^_^

**Jabba on the Pizza Hut**: Newbie! Yay! ^_~ Happy you're enjoying things – keep reading!

**swlover12345678910:** Another newbie! Here, have a tissue *_passes tissue_* - I'm afraid things aren't going to get better anytime soon! But I'm glad you're enjoying it, too!

**Disclaimer:** I still own _nothing_… except my life. Except my life. Except my life. ^_~ (Tell me what that's from, and I'll give you a merit! LOL)

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 5**

_["Let the executions begin!"]_

The crowd roared with excitement, throwing their spindly hands up into the air, their beady eyes fixed upon the sandy expanse of the arena below as Poggle announced the beginning of the festivities. Strapped against one of four pillars, central to the ground, was Obi-Wan Kenobi; a chain was attached to the manacles about his wrists, and pulled taut upwards, hung to a hook at the column's peak. Attached to the pillar next to him was Anakin, strung up in the same way. They were trapped.

Several Geonosian picadors, armed with electro-poles, rode about the edge of the grounds on quadruped reptilian creatures; they seemed to be hanging around a couple of gates, about the premise's boundaries.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Anakin sighed, staring at these inlets with a feeling of foreboding, monitoring the movements of the mounted Geonosians. 

As if in response, the gates suddenly began to draw open. Kenobi watched them closely, trying to focus his strengths, drawing from his last energy reserves; he knew that he'd need to keep his wits about him for whatever was to come.

Drums beat in the stadium, and the Geonosians chanted along to the rhythm aggressively. The picadors raised their poles toward the yawning entryways as, from the darkness of the passageways beyond, a couple of fantastical and fierce beasts emerged. Anakin swallowed – this would certainly be more of a challenge than those training droids back at the Temple.

The first to appear was the Reek, a rhino type creature. It emerged into the sunlight, looking warily about its surroundings, then raised its huge, tri-horned head and bellowed loudly. The roar echoed off of the stadium's sandstone walls, and reverberated through the stands, causing the crowds to get even more enthused. The Reek's skin was a dusty red on top, and grey below, and its feet were flat and rounded, rimmed with stubby nails, which gave it superb balance. The horns on its head were its most prominent and unnerving feature, though; one stuck up central above its eyes, whilst two more protruded from its cheeks, and curled round toward its mouth. It was a living tank, and just as deadly.

The second to come out was the Acklay. It emerged backwards from its tunnel, but swiftly reeled about on its six legs, screeching in the most cringe-worthy tone possible toward a nearby picador. The picador, in response, gave it a jolt with its electro-pole, and urged the creature on toward the captives. The Acklay's body was a crab-like shell, coloured a turquoise blue, from which it's six legs protruded – four main ones for balance and movement, and the front two for attack and defence. These front two legs were like a pair of elongated scythes, sharp and deadly, and could effortlessly sear flesh with a well-aimed blow. It's head, held up upon a lengthy neck, was small and rounded, with a slight decorative frill projecting off the back. It sported a set of four small eyes upon its skull, and a mouth lined with rows of small, sharp teeth.

"You did re-transmit my message, didn't you?" Obi-Wan asked in the heat of the moment.

Anakin glanced in surprise at his Master, his tone unduly conversational, "Yes, Master, of course," he said regardless of the situation.

The two creatures were slowly forced forward toward their quarry, the Reek toward Anakin and the Acklay toward Obi-Wan. The picadors barely had control over them with their measly electro-poles, but it was enough just to get the show on the road.

Kenobi nodded slightly to himself, putting aside his exhaustion, and preparing to fight, "Just relax. Concentrate," he said to his Padawan, eyeing the Acklay vigilantly, "We'll get out of this."

"I promised myself I would," Anakin snarled discreetly, more to himself than to his Master. He glared at the Reek with a determination to win, aiming all his hatred of the Count and all of his fear of the situation toward the incautious Reek. He would save Padmé – he had to.

The Acklay reached Kenobi. It looked over him uncertainly, making a clicking noise within its throat, before shrieking, and raising its scythe-like appendages ready to strike. Obi-Wan watched it wide-eyed as one of its claws came down toward him – he swung to the left a little, managing to get some manoeuvrability out of his chain, and luckily avoided the attack! The Acklay snarled in irritation, withdrew its first claw, and swung in with its other in a follow-up assault – but Obi-Wan swung back, and by sheer chance, instead of hitting him, the Acklay's claw impacted against his chain instead, and snapped it, freeing him!

The crowds hissed…

The Reek came into eye contact with Anakin now, and snorted loudly, shaking its gigantic head. It scraped its forefoot backward across the sandy floor, before roaring deeply and charging toward he who was alleged to be the Chosen One. Anakin gritted his teeth, watching the creature carefully as it hurtled toward his pillar. He concentrated hard, drawing on his strengths from the Force, then, at just the right moment, he leapt up into the air! The Reek slammed into the pillar, missing Anakin – and the Padawan skilfully landed on the creature's back, perched just beyond its head. He swiftly swung his chain about the Reek's main horn, and all was left was for the Reek to yank its head away before the chain was broken! And it did; with a clink, the links snapped, and Anakin was now also free!

The crowds hissed again; this wasn't good.

"_Foul_!" cried Nute Gunray, pointing toward the dexterous Anakin, "He can't do that!"

The Separatists were all gathered in the dignitary box, high above the arena floor, watching the events with varying amounts of enthusiasm. Most of them just ignored the Trade Federation Viceroy. Poggle shook his head cantankerously to himself, having had enough of Nute's bellyaching.

"He just did, didn't he?" Wat Tambor droned mechanically through his metallic suit, deciding to take a shot back at Gunray, "Stop your whining and just watch, will you?"

Nute cowered back a little from the portentous Techno Unionist, growling quietly in his throat, before slowly turning back to view the skirmish.

Dooku smirked discreetly from behind the Neimoidian, holding a bewildered Padmé firmly by the shoulders before him – that'd keep Gunray quiet for a while. Padmé, meanwhile, stared nervously at the battles going on below, half wishing she were down there too, and not in Dooku's hands. Literally. She sighed quietly to herself, having never dreamt that things would turn out this way.

The Acklay continued to pursue Kenobi, currently playing 'cat and mouse' with him about a pillar. Every time it swung its scythes about the column, in an attempt to run the Jedi through, the pesky human just jumped out of the way! The Acklay was beginning to get frustrated, and just threw its entire body weight against the pillar, knocking it from its base, and over toward the Jedi that cowered behind it. 

Obi-Wan gasped as he saw the column suddenly come careering down toward him. He dived out of its path, and rolled across the floor, picking up irritating grains of sand in the apertures of his tunic as he did. His hands were still bound, which hindered his movement, and it took a lot of effort for him to get back onto his weary feet; he knew that if he didn't, he'd never get up again, though.

No sooner had Obi-Wan recovered from that assault than the Acklay was storming back toward him again, throwing its scythes down toward the floor in frenzy, attempting to crush Kenobi under the blows! It took a wild dancing act for Obi to keep out of harm's way, but the more the Jedi Knight dodged the beast's onslaughts, the more it lusted his blood.

**B**oba forced his way to the front of the dignitary box above, peering down curiously at the transpiring events. Jango watched him guardedly, holding his helmet under his arm, whilst Poggle stood to his left.

"They're wizard, dad!" Boba smirked grimly, glancing briefly back to his father. He looked between the two creatures, and pointed, "I like that one with the claws best… the blue one!"

_["It's an Acklay, one of the most ferocious creatures this side of the galaxy,"]_ Poggle said circumspectly toward the boy, holding his head up proudly – at least the child seemed to have an interest in the events.

"An _Acklay_, Boba," Dooku translated for him, noticing a frown furrow the boy's forehead as he failed to comprehend the Archduke's language.

Boba nodded slowly, his mouth a little agape, "Awesome," he sighed, turning back to watch it again. Jango smirked proudly toward his son, nodding courteously toward the Count. Padmé just raised a suspicious eyebrow toward the bounty hunter's child – how could a youngster find amusement in this death display? It was frightening to think a child could be like that; she didn't want to even start to consider how he'd been raised if he had grown to be like this.

**A**nakin had now managed to sling the remnants of his chain through the mouth of the Reek, and rode it about like a bucking bronco. It bolted and twisted around, hastening to throw the Padawan off, it's eyes burning with rage and fear. Anakin pulled tight on the chains, making the beast's head lurch backward. It roared in distress, forced to come to a halt.

Anakin looked up, and suddenly noticed that a pair of picadors were charging toward him! They held their electro-poles forward, preparing to knock him from the bull-like creature. He quickly wrenched his chains to the right, kicking his heels into the beast's hide, and the Reek swiftly began to run again, bellowing in further grief. But it wasn't prepared to let Anakin have an easy ride this time; it made a sharp stop, and turned in the process, before continuing on to sprint in another direction. Anakin fell from his mount, unable to maintain his balance, and held onto his chains hard as he was dragged across the floor, dangerously close to the stampeding feet of the Reek. He cried out in effort, trying in vain to pull himself back onto his feet, but was at the creature's mercy. And, to make matters worse, the two picadors were now in pursuit of him, riding their beasts at the rear…

Kenobi was having his own picador troubles – one had begun to career toward him upon its mount, planning to knock him into the Acklay's path! Obi-Wan turned to the Geonosian, and decided to take it head on. As the picador reached him, Kenobi skilfully caught its electro-pole between his cuffs, and swung the rod over his head, sending the Geonosian from its mount, and soaring over the ground! It landed perfectly by the Acklay's feet. Obi-Wan swallowed, watching the crablike beast carefully. The Acklay jumped back a little in surprise at the incoming gift, inspecting the stunned Geonosian with its four eyes, before deciding that it wasn't worthy of the game, and walked right over it, its front claws piercing its torso! The unfortunate Geonosian soldier squealed as its body was punctured, its green-tinted blood oozing from its wound.

The crowds cheered loudly –the first sure display of carnage had come! It may have been one of their own to be killed first, but it was still a death; all picadors constantly lived with the risk of being consumed by their profession, anyway, so this kind of thing was expected.

Padmé flinched, turning away from the conflicts as best as she could – that could have been Kenobi under the Acklay's feet, "Let me go, please," she whispered desperately to Dooku, staring down to her left. 

One of the Count's firm hands grasped the top of her head, and forced it back forward in response, "No, no, my dear… you must watch the spectacle," he said flippantly, lowering his head to the side of hers, grinning vilely. She shuddered as his breath brushed her skin, and closed her eyes. Nute watched Dooku's actions from the corner of his eyes, pursing his lip in further distrust of the Separatist leader. 

Dooku continued, passing unconstrained strands of Padmé's hair through his fingers, "You wouldn't want to insult Poggle, now, would you, by leaving this display he has set up especially for us? He'd be _most_ insulted if you were to go…"

"It's sick… you can't make me watch it!" she snapped angrily and hurtfully, trying to force her head back round again, "Especially with my friends being the ones suffering at that Geonosian's twisted expense!" 

Dooku held her skull forward ever more securely, "I can make you watch, and I will," he growled without question.

**T**he Reek finally slowed to a halt, taking deep breaths to replenish its lungs. It shook its body, snorting once more, and at last managed to knock Anakin's chains free from about its head. Anakin heaved a sigh of relief, spluttering sand from out of his mouth, and shaking it from his hair, before slowly getting up. His picador friends had now gone off to deal with Kenobi, leaving him free to do as he would. He looked over the Reek thoughtfully, and carefully began to draw his chain back toward his shackled wrists. He avidly kept his eye on the erratic Reek as he pulled the chain gradually back into his palms.

Obi-Wan, meanwhile, held the lance he had stolen from the late picador firmly in his grasp, and was using it to keep the Acklay at bay, jabbing the rod toward the creature to keep a safe distance between them. He then spotted the pair of picadors charging at him, and sighed with exasperation, twisting his pole about to face them. With a well-timed couple of thrusts, he gashed each of the picador's necks, just below their jowls, as they rode past, killing them instantly. Their mounts roared in confusion as their riders fell, and scampered off in disarray.

The Acklay was by now back upon Kenobi, rearing up onto its hind legs, and squealing down at the persistent Jedi. It raised its scythe-like claws up again in another attempt to annihilate him. Obi-Wan brought his pole back to face the creature, and thrust it up toward it. The Acklay just backed off from Kenobi's assaults, and moved back forward again to deliver its own blows when Kenobi's guard seemed to waver. It swung one claw toward the Jedi's head, and – when Kenobi eluded that – swung the other down toward his feet. Obi-Wan evaded that one also. It stuck its forelegs back down into the ground, getting more and more aggravated, and cried out in infuriation, fed up with this game.

The Reek was slowly pacing about the grounds, dazed and lost. Anakin, his chain reeled back into his hands, began to carefully approach the creature from behind. He raised one hand up toward it, hoping to soothe it with his Force manipulation, and hold it under control. He took one steady step at a time, watching the Reek closely, until he was just by its side, and then, with an incredible Force-aided bound, he leapt back onto it, and swung his chain into its mouth once again! This time, however, he'd managed to gain a firmer control of the beast – he'd tamed it to his command with his Jedi powers, and it was his to use.

He jerked the chains about, and gave it a kick in the hide, _"Hi-yaah!"_ he called, making it run forward.

"**Y**es!" Padmé smiled, seeing how her friends were suddenly getting the better of all that was thrown against them – how they'd done it, she'd never know! Dooku, however, wasn't quite so amused, but was patient – he had other tricks up his sleeve as of yet.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be," Nute groaned, coming out of his silence; he turned to Fett behind him, and pointed at the bounty hunter, "Jango, finish them off!" he ordered.

Dooku released Padmé from his hold, and lightly hit the Neimoidian's pointing arm downwards. Nute looked hard at him, recoiling back a little. "Patience, Viceroy, patience," Dooku said unfalteringly, staring rigidly into Gunray's red eyes, "They will die."

Nute hesitated, before quickly nodding in a nervous response, "B-but of course…" he stuttered, cowering further back behind his aide, and returning his attentions to the proceedings again. 

Dooku made a hidden scowl at the Viceroy, before turning back to Padmé, and re-taking his stand behind her, his strong hands taking her shoulders back into their grasp. She glanced at him in horror, the coldness of his tone concerning his confidence in her friends' deaths unsettling her further.

**K**enobi was getting as tired of this match as his opponent – and he could feel his body beginning to weaken again. He took a swift gamble with his pole, and threw it at the Acklay like a javelin. It soared into its left shoulder, making the creature scream out loud. The beast then turned to look at the lance, and pulled it out from its shell, its body made of too thick a hide for the shot to be effective. Obi-Wan swallowed, his options out, and wheeled about, running away.

Anakin spotted his fleeing teacher, and drove his Reek toward him; "Master!" he called. Obi-Wan rushed toward his protégé, and leapt onto the Reek's back, behind Anakin.

"Enough of this," Dooku suddenly snarled, sending a chill down the spines of all those in his vicinity. Boba turned to look at the Count again, and withdrew back toward his father from the edge of the dignitary box, knowing when the fun was up. The Count walked forward, dragging Padmé by one arm with him, and made something of a brief signal over the edge of the box.

Anakin looked about warily, hearing the unwelcoming role of metal against the ground. He pulled the Reek to a steady halt in the centre of the grounds, and he and his Master watched as the gates ringing the locale wrenched open again – and hundreds of deadly Droidekas came rolling out! The wheel droids stormed toward the two Jedi, trapped upon their creature, and leapt up into their attack positions, their gun barrels held at the ready, circling them. The Reek looked over the metallic robots with a natural fear, the entire situation terrifying for it.

Dooku's eyebrows rose in faint approval, and he held Padmé firmly before him. She gritted her teeth, finding the goings on unbearable; "Can you see them, Padmé'?" he hissed down her ear snidely, "Can you see where serving the Republic has brought your friends? They could have been allowed to live had they not been so foolish as to turn down my offers."

"Stop it," she cringed, unable to wheel about away from the events, his grip was so tight. 

He grinned heartlessly at her – but suddenly, he felt uneasy. Padmé felt the titanic weight that he usually burdened her mind with lessen, and his grip slightly alleviated. She turned to him, looking at his eyes – they were blank, deep in thought.

There was a pause. 

The Droidekas stood motionless, guns at the ready, awaiting their Master's command to shoot, whilst Obi-Wan and Anakin glanced around the stands apprehensively. The crowds murmured to one another uncertainly, wondering why the droids had not been commanded to fire yet. 

Amidala frowned, the silent pressure growing – something was amiss. She watched as, suddenly, Dooku's face became increasingly taut; he swallowed nonchalantly, straightening his back whilst keeping a light hold of her shoulders; he'd sensed something…

Suddenly, a spurt of laser power burst to life behind them, making all but the Count in the dignitary box jump! The Separatists turned around rapidly, murmuring and gasping to each other, cowering backwards to the walls in fear – there was an intruder in the box! 

Dooku, however, merely kept his back to the intruder; "Master Windu," he greeted the unseen entity smoothly, a slow, but bitter grin rising on his face, "How good of you to join us."

Padmé frowned – Mace Windu was here? 

Steadily, the Count turned around, holding Amidala firmly to his chest, and – lo-and-behold – there indeed stood Mace Windu, his sabre ignited! Dooku nodded in a feigned civility to the Jedi Master, still seeming composed. Padmé was only further amazed (and intimidated) by the Count's skills.

Mace held his purple lightsabre up beneath Jango's vulnerable chin. The bounty hunter held his head up, seeming untroubled by the threat upon him, though the ambush had caused Boba a little distress; the boy had leapt backwards in shock, and was now leaning into the wall. The other Separatists, including Poggle, made sure to keep their distance, uncertain of what was going to happen next.

Windu looked toward Dooku with an unsympathetic glare, in no mood for games, "This party's over!" he snapped instantaneously.

There was an abrupt fluster of panic within the arena; the crowds were all suddenly startled as Jedi appeared all across the stands, igniting their lightsabres! The Geonosians screeched and cried in alarm, those with wings flying away, and those without scuttling off down the nearest exit, rushing to hide in the catacombs below.

Dooku glanced briefly at the commotion mounting about him, seemingly unimpressed, and turned back to Windu with his typical cocked eyebrow gesture; he smiled in a devious amusement, "Brave, but, uh…'foolish', my old Jedi friend," he seethed unfeelingly, holding Padmé even tighter by the shoulders before him. 

Windu looked at Padmé uncertainly, and saw the trepidation and regret in her eyes, "Let the Senator go, Dooku," he asked him in a subdued tone.

The Count slowly grinned with satisfaction; "I couldn't, even if I wanted to; she is bound to my movement now," he hissed.

Windu surveyed her, looking a little astounded; he hoped that what Dooku alleged was a lie, but as he watched Padmé glance downwards guiltily, he knew that the Count's words were confirmed. He sighed in dejection.

"Turn back, Master Windu," Dooku went on, an edge of threat entering his voice, "You're impossibly outnumbered."

Mace scoffed, his mind returning to the moment, and he shook his head coolly, "I don't think so. These Geonosian 'friends' of yours aren't soldiers. One Jedi is worth ten of them."

Poggle, meanwhile, was ushering most of the Confederacy commanders from the arena stand back to safety within the Hive walls. He walked quickly up behind Dooku; _["We must retreat to the war room,"]_ he whispered to him urgently. Jango watched everyone carefully as they fled, still cornered by the Jedi's lightsabre.

The Count listened to Poggle, keeping an eye on Mace at the same time, "I'll meet you down there in due course," he inconspicuously responded, dismissing him with a slight gesture of his hands. The Archduke nodded, and continued to lead the Separatists away. Dooku then turned back to Mace, "It wasn't the Geonosians I was thinking of," he retorted openly to the Jedi Master's latter comment, inclining his head a little to the left. 

Mace noted the knowing grin on Dooku's visage, and listened cautiously as he heard heavy metallic footsteps approach from behind. Veering speedily about on the spot, he saw a hoard of Super Battle Droids begin to approach him from out of the main passageway beyond. He swung his sabre before him in order to deflect a mass of incoming laser fire from the Super Battle Droids' arm-mounted cannons, finally leaving Jango open.

Fett took his chance to rapidly roll out of the way, to the side, and urged his son to take cover in a hollow in the rock face, before activating his flamethrower, aiming to scorch the Jedi Master to a crisp. Windu saw that he was trapped up here, and leapt over the edge of the dignitary box, deflecting a last couple of laser bolts, before falling to the floor below. Dooku, meanwhile, forced Amidala forward to the far right of the box, and stood with her there, carefully monitoring the events.

All of the other Jedi leapt down from the stands, grouping together in the arena centre in one huge attack force. Anakin and Obi-Wan rode the Reek over through the stunted Droidekas to join their Jedi comrades – and then, all Hell broke loose!  A throng of Battle Droids and armed Geonosians rushed into the stadium from the entryways, and were met in a head-on collision by the Jedi party, all lightsabres a-blazing! 

Anakin grinned – now this was his kind of thing!

One Jedi hurried over to the two upon the Reek, lobbing them a couple of spare lightsabres. Anakin activated his green blade, freeing Kenobi from his manacles with it, before freeing himself. They leapt off the Reek, and joined in the fight – it was Jedi versus Battle Droids & Geonosians, Republic versus Separatists!

Dooku swallowed, lightly stroking Padmé's shoulders, "War has begun," he said plainly. Amidala closed her eyes in compunction – he was right.

**TBC…**

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**NB:** Yes, words from the film, and from cut scenes, with my own personal improvisation.


	6. A Brutal Defeat

**Author's Notes: **This has taken me _forever_… and it hasn't covered the whole battle, or ought, that continues from the Jedi arriving to the Clone Wars – but most of that's irrelevant. I just wrote as much as I could and thought I should, so I hope it makes sense and suffices.

**Skywalker Blue:** Well, as long as you can follow it, I must be doing something right! ^_^ I wasn't too keen on this chapter, either – the beginning part in particular – but I'm slowly getting through to the parts of the story where I can have more freedom.

**Xing:** Is that you, Seth? Anyway, thanks – I'm glad you liked the last chappy! I sure didn't! ^_~ But I'm fussy…

**Heather Wan:** Newbie! *_waves_* Hmm… you wait to see what's bubbling in my head for _after_ Chapter 6! It's **not nice**! _Mwa ha ha_! Anyway, thankyou _so much_ for your compliments! I do try _damn_ hard to make these fics legible, and I'm happy to see that you're enjoying it.

**MerryMoll:** Faithful friend! I've been ill for a week, so I'm a lil behind on the Internet, and reading stuff. I'll try get back on reading your fic again soon! And there's more evil Dooku to come… not yet, but soon, I think.

**Side note!:** I _have_ read through this several times, but I **cannot** guarantee absolutely **no** mistakes! I just found some in chapter 1, so there must be some in here!

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 6**

**L**ightsabres whirled. Guns fired. Metal and flesh fell to the floor. Chaos rocked the stadium walls as the party of Jedi, hoping to come to the rescue of Kenobi – and now Skywalker and Amidala – were caught up in a vain and horrific battle.

The terrified Reek and Acklay leapt about in frenzy, guns firing loudly about them. Their lives had been a living Hell, and things didn't look to be improving any time soon. The Reek swung its head about, knocking Jedi and Geonosians alike out of its way, roaring in agony as crossing laser fire ricocheted off of its tough hide. The Acklay was just as confused and afraid, and did its best to defend itself with its gargantuan fore-claws, as threatening creatures of both flesh and metal surrounded it.

The Jedi were skilled fighters, but it wasn't enough to save them; there was so much laser fire emitting from the wealth of Battle Droids, Droidekas and Super Battle Droids that filled the arena that many were completely overwhelmed. Kenobi backed up into the arena's centre, and stood by Windu, desperately deflecting all of the laser fire that came at him. Anakin, meanwhile, had decided to go for a typically reckless offensive assault, and leapt swiftly into the heat of the action, swinging his green blade skilfully about him. Battle Droids fell in halves all around him, though the Super Battle Droids proved more competent, and kept their distance, simply hammering him with rapid fire. This he deflected back toward them, hoping to find some kind of weak spot…

**P**admé watched the goings on with a deeply set cringe from above – she hated battles…

Suddenly, though, she yelped in shock, as a Jedi, with a dinosaur-like head, leapt up to the edge of the dignitary box with an incredible Force-aided jump, holding its green lightsabre at the ready! It wasn't the first thing you expected when you were so far up from the ground…

Dooku, still stood close behind Amidala, merely looked at the Knight sternly, and held his ground. The saurian Jedi blinked unsurely, warily looking at the Separatist leader, before deciding to take one step forward toward him and his companion… but that was enough. Jango, from behind the Count, took his gun swiftly from its sheath by his thigh, and shot the unsuspecting Jedi in the heart. It buckled and groaned, dropping its lightsabre, before toppling back down to the floor far below, dead.

Dooku grinned grimly, nodding toward Jango. The bounty hunter twirled his gun about in his grasp, and replaced it by his side. 

Padmé swallowed hard, inhaling deeply – that had not been in the least bit pleasant; "There must be a way to solve this without being so _barbaric_," she said to Dooku, finally finding her voice, "Can't we find a diplomatic solution to this?"

"Diplomatic?" Dooku scoffed, "You call a legion of Jedi 'gate crashing' a public event –"

"A public event? We're talking about an execution!" she snapped abruptly.

"On a planet where it is entirely legal," the Count reminded her.

She paused, hesitating.

Dooku nodded then slowly went on, "As I was saying, a legion of Jedi ambush a _legal_ Geonosian affair, fully armed, and make little effort to negotiate civilly… well, who exactly is in the wrong…?"

"They're trying to save their allies!" Padmé stated.

"Who were also in the wrong" Dooku continued, "All three of you were spying or trespassing in some way, and you all knew it…"

Padmé sighed, shaking her head gently – it wasn't easy winning an argument with this guy.

"To be honest with you, my dear," he went on, "I'm sickened that the Jedi have fallen so low… I'm sure that this kind of offensive would never have even been considered in my day. I believe that I left that crumbling Order at just the right time."

"So, had you been in their position, you would happily have left your friends to die? Is that what the 'esteemed' _Master Dooku_ would have done?" she asked him with contempt.

He tightened his grip on her, digging his fingers into just below her collarbone. She gritted her teeth, and tried not to show the discomfort he was causing her.

"My dear, do not try my patience," he warned her austerely.

Jango suddenly decided that his time to participate in the battle had come; activating his jet pack, he soared off of the balcony to the arena below. Boba watched his father vigilantly from his cover in the rocky crevice, nearby the audacious Count.

**T**he Reek was beginning to suffer from complete panic, and it made a storming charge at Kenobi and Windu. The two Jedi looked vacantly at the bull-like creature hurtling toward them.

"That doesn't look good," Kenobi dryly remarked as the ground shook under its approaching thunderous steps.

"No, it doesn't," Mace understatedly replied, giving Kenobi a quick glance, before turning and running in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan stood his ground, hoping that the creature may run about him – but the Reek was far from cowed by the small Jedi's stalwart presence; it knocked him to the side with a toss of its head, tearing passed him, and rushing on to pursue Windu.

Kenobi groaned as he hit the floor, clutching his shoulder where the creature had struck him.  He spluttered some sand from his mouth, and shook some more of the irritating stuff from his hair before he glanced up to see how Windu was fairing. The Jedi Master was still on the run. Kenobi sighed, groaning as he forced his aching limbs to support his full weight again, getting back to his feet; it was turning one to be one of those really bad days…

The Reek was catching up with Windu, knocking Droidekas and Battle Droids flying as it ploughed through them, and soon Mace recognised the ineffectuality of his flight. The land quaked as the creature rapidly drew nearer from behind, its heated, heavy breaths thrashing against the back of his robes. Windu decided to take a gamble: he leapt about in the air, swung his sabre round toward the Reek, and speedily rolled out of its path.

The creature roared as the Jedi successfully knocked one of its horns off, and it skidded to a halt in confusion, shaking its head as its balance shifted now it lacked one giant horn.

Windu inhaled deeply, landing flat out on his back, and hastily got himself back onto his feet. He then realised he'd dropped his lightsabre. Turning about, he spotted his weapon hilt lay across the sandy floor – but then Jango entered the fray! 

Fett deactivated his jet pack, landing but a metre or so from Mace's lightsabre, and made a dive for the Jedi's weapon, knowing that close range combat with a sabre-wielding Jedi was all but impossible – if he took the Jedi's weapon, he had a better chance of success. And he'd had his eyes set on killing this Jedi since the battle had begun.

Windu was completely unmoved by the bounty hunter's presence, however, and merely opened his hand before him, summoning upon the power of the Force and smoothly drawing his weapon hilt back into his grasp. As the sabre flew from the ground, Jango hit it, his efforts to snatch it in vain. Windu grasped his lightsabre again hard, and reactivated its purple blade, giving Jango the 'you'll have to do better' stare.

Fett made an evident growl, slapping the sandy ground, irritated by Windu's cocksure manner. He leapt angrily back onto his feet, about to take a gun from his belt to return an assault, when suddenly the Reek came back into the game. Mace wanted no more of that beast, so wheeled about out of the creature's path as it careered back toward him, and left Jango to it. 

Fett only had time to turn around before the beast drove into him with its powerful skull! The bounty hunter yelled, and was tossed several metres through the air, before he came crashing back onto the floor – and even then, the Reek was still upon him! He knew he'd be trampled if he didn't keep his wits about him. Jango was unable to get up in time, so to prevent being crushed by the beast's incoming feet, he rolled across the floor in time with it, managing to dodge them as they stampeded about him. He skilfully travelled under its running legs until he managed to free himself from underneath it, and rolled out into the open.

Even more bewildered that the silver-clad man hadn't been flattened beneath it, the Reek halted and turned about, charging once more at the bounty hunter with a vicious roar! Jango had no time to recover or breathe a sigh of relief after the last attack, so had no choice but to quickly refocus on the moment; he whipped a gun from his side and shot the Reek several times in the head. The creature's skin was broken, its delicate flesh seared, and its brain damaged; it groaned its last, and stumbled to the floor just short of the bounty hunter, falling upon a couple of bodies of two deceased Jedi. Its mighty head fell still, blood trickling from its nose; its life of torment was over.

Jango exhaled hard, his jetpack fizzling and sparking – it had been badly damaged in his encounter with the Reek. He slowly turned around again, and saw Master Windu still stood there. He readied himself again for another onslaught – there was no rest for the wicked.

"I must say I'm impressed," Mace smirked wryly.

Fett wasn't in a chatting mood. His gun made a reappearance, and he pummelled Windu with several rapid firing shots. Mace deflected them all effortlessly, and began to make a rush toward him. Fett hadn't expected this kind of assault from a Jedi, and was forced to take gradual steps backwards as Mace came closer and closer to him, with his deadly pulsating lightsabre. Windu's eyes were intense, his mind focused, and soon he was too close to Jango for the bounty hunter's liking. Fett immediately tried to engage his jetpack – but it just sparked and spluttered, too damaged to operate! Before Fett could even think about uttering a sharp grievance as he saw his coming fate, he was put out of his misery forever – Windu slung a cleaving shot at his neck and decapitated him!

For once, Dooku was shocked, and his hands jolted in a gesture of surprise – his accomplished bounty hunter had been killed! Young Boba just stared on in disbelief, unable to make a reaction – his father was now dead.

**T**he Geonosians decided to raise the stakes a little, and rolled out a couple of giant cannons into the arena – 'sonic blasters', as they were formally known. Their operators hovered about them on their flimsy wings, flicking about on the controls, before slowly turning the gargantuan machines in their enemies' directions, and then firing giant waves of green, sonic energy toward them! Jedi screamed, and droids caught in the crossfire shattered as the waves sent them flying all over the place! Bodies smashed fatally into the pillars, snapping against the hard rock faces, they were thrown with such force!

Kenobi watched a good two-dozen of his Jedi friends wiped out with a single blow from the sonic cannons – he shook his head in denial, not wanting to believe that they were dead; the Geonosians indeed were fine weapons manufacturers.

A couple of gangling battle droids trotted up toward Obi-Wan, cradling their guns awkwardly in their metallic hands. Kenobi looked them over with little concern, and slowly raised his lightsabre, preparing to knock them to the ground – Battle Droids were far from threats to Jedi. 

The two droids were about to attack, but then suddenly began to back off, looking at one another almost nervously; "Uh-oh," one sighed, before they both quaked, "_Roger, roger_!" hysterically.

Obi-Wan frowned, and then noticed that a large shadow was cast over him. He turned about and his old friend, the Acklay, was stood there! It made the clicking noise within its throat again, before screeching outright, and sending its claws down toward him! If Kenobi had had the time, he would have rolled his eyes, but he just got straight down to business, and swung his lightsabre out before him, cutting both the Acklay's forelegs short. This caused the poor creature to fall helplessly forward onto the floor, its back legs unable to give it the necessary balance alone. It groaned in agony, writhing uselessly in the sand. Kenobi looked at it with a little empathy, and decided that it would be better to end its life now rather than let it suffer any more. He spun his sabre about in his hands, before striking the beast down one last time into its head. It then lay still, finally at peace.

**M**eanwhile, another discharge from the Geonosian's sonic blaster sent at least thirty Jedi sprawling over the arena, many of them killed by the blow. The droids and remaining few Geonosian soldiers began to corner the dwindling number of Knights in the centre of the field, overwhelming them with their consistent, relentless fire. The Jedi continued to fight even as they were forced back, more and more of them continuing to fall in the final onslaught.

Jango's death having sunk in (which was more than what could be said for Boba), Dooku walked back to the head of the dignitary box, and, when he could see that the Jedi were finally well and truly cornered, he made a sharp signal to the droids below. They all halted, withdrawing their weapons and standing their ground. 

An eerie silence filled the arena.

The few remaining Jedi looked around them; destroyed droids and the dead bodies of Jedi littered the sandy floor. A few remaining Geonosian soldiers rounded up a few other Jedi, herding them into the centre until they were gathered in a cluster. Anakin rejoined Obi-Wan, amongst the survivors, with Mace Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi, and no more than twenty others. It was a sorry sight considering over two hundred Jedi had started the battle…

Kenobi knelt by the side of a fallen Knight, and checked for his pulse – there was none. He, like many others, had been killed. Obi tried hard to contain his anger, and tried even harder to remain on his feet, his body demanding rest more now than ever.

"Master Windu!" Dooku called from above, his strong voice resonating about the almost depleted amphitheatre, "You have fought gallantly. One might say your performance was worthy of recognition in the Archives of the Jedi Order…but a great performance isn't always enough, is it?"

Mace glared up to his former comrade with something of contempt, swallowing hard.

Padmé kept back by the wall – the carnage below was a horrid sight, and she didn't want to see any more of the tricks Dooku had in store for those who were left; she just hoped that their luck held out. She glanced to Boba briefly – the young boy was in total shock, and seemed quite numb at current. Undoubtedly, after all the dangerous situations his father had survived, Boba had begun to think that Jango was invincible, and would never die…now even he had learned that no one lives forever.

"Now, it is finished," the Count continued with a note of finality, a couple of Super Battle Droids walking up to flank his sides from the passageway behind, "Surrender, and your lives will be spared."

Windu would have none of it, "We will _not_ be hostages to be bartered, Dooku!" he snapped sternly.

Dooku looked down for a moment, sighing, "Then, I'm sorry, old friend."

The Jedi became alert once more as the droids about them again took aim with their guns, ready to mow the remaining huddle of Knights down.

Padmé lurched up to Dooku's side, "Don't kill them! Everyone makes rash decisions in such circumstances! Make them surrender, please!" she asked him.

"Your continuing efforts to save them are in vain, my dear," he replied impassively, "If they won't surrender, then I won't make them. I have no choice but to kill them."

"You **do** have a choice!" she insisted, grasping his arm.

He whipped his arm back, "I think not."

Obi-Wan looked across the sea of droids, his throat parched, his body exhausted; after all the threats of death that had come upon him today, would this now be the end…?

Mace raised his purple lightsabre, ready to go out fighting, whilst Anakin glared at the Count hard, his anger toward him more incensed than ever – he had to find a way to confront him one-on-one, and prove himself. And if he did, he'd take the old man's lightsabre as his trophy, and take huge satisfaction from eliminating his life…

"Stay focused, everyone," Mace said to the survivor group hushly, a heavily sombre edge to his voice as they prepared for this final onslaught from the overwhelming numbers of droids.

Padmé looked to the small group of Jedi below compared to the hundreds of remaining droids. But suddenly she frowned, hearing a slight buzzing noise from above; glancing upwards, she gasped in amazement; "Look!" she cried.

All the Jedi below gazed into the air, and watched as several large gunships soared down into the arena, and knocked out hundreds of droids with their powerful cannon fire; it was Yoda and an entire hoard of soldiers!

"Around the survivors, a perimeter create!" the little green Jedi ordered his troops, taking immediate control of the situation.

The droids were distracted, and began shooting in bewilderment at the craft above, their lasers proving futile against the ship's shields and the superior firepower. The Jedi cut down the last few droids that they could afford to before the ships landed. Once they were down, some soldiers dressed in white armour hopped out of the crafts, and helped keep the droids at bay whilst the Jedi were escorted onto the ships.

Padmé's face lit up – Anakin, Obi-Wan and the remaining Jedi were safe again! 

Dooku was not so pleased by the new company, however – he thrust Padmé out of his way, and stood by the box's edge, closely monitoring the ships below. He watched as, once all of the remaining Jedi had been taken on board, the soldiers re-boarded, and the ships began to take off, flying back outside of the arena.

He growled discreetly to himself, grabbing Padmé by the arm, and guiding her back out of the arena, taking her down the passageway behind them.

"You don't have to pull so hard!" she griped as he dragged her roughly down a dark stairway, the same one that they had come up early.

He promptly stopped, and pushed her on before him, "Take the lead, then!" he snapped.

She stumbled before him, glanced briefly back to his sinister, imposing face, and slowly began to step on ahead; "Where am I supposed to be going?" she asked.

"Forward," he curtly retorted.

"Where exactly?" she repeated.

"Just go forward," he said again, "I'll guide you when necessary."

**M**eanwhile, in the arena, little Boba made his way to the grounds below. He slowly walked through the field of the dead, destroyed droids' lifeless skeletons and Jedi's shattered bodies everywhere. He walked passed the giant bulk of the Reek, over the imposing torso of a Super Battle Droid, and then found his father's helmet, turned over on its side in the sand. He looked down at it blankly. Thankfully, his father's decapitated head had fallen elsewhere, so it was hollow.

Swallowing, the young boy crouched down and picked up the metallic helmet, and raised it before him, seeing his own reflection in its black visor. He leant his head onto it in sorrow; the only person he had ever been able to call family was now gone. But he didn't cry – he'd been taught never to show weakness, or even to feel grief. He didn't know how to handle what he was feeling now.

Boba's youthful visage tightened; hesitantly at first, he rose back up to his full height, and then slowly placed the helmet firmly onto his head…

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**O**utside the arena, it was now clear that a much bigger battle had begun. 

Watching from their gunship, Kenobi, Anakin, a couple of other Jedi and their Trooper allies, looked over the far-reaching landscape of Geonosis, and saw masses of infantry from the Republic landing to take on the armies assembled by the Confederacy. Large starships were unloading ground walkers, more gunships, and thousands upon thousands of soldiers. War indeed had begun…

Yoda, Windu, Mundi and their crew were on the gunship infront; "If Dooku escapes," Yoda said sternly to Mace, tapping his cane upon the gunship's deck, "Rally more systems to his cause he will!"

"I know," Windu nodded, "He has already claimed Senator Amidala."

Yoda looked at Windu with considerable amazement; "A blow indeed, this is…" he sighed regrettably, "Discourage more from the Republic, it will, if a woman we considered such a strong Republican, we have lost."

Mace glared at the horizon, "And Dooku knows this. I don't wish to know what it was that made the Senator turn to his movement…"

Yoda shook his head gently as the gunships all took a turn east, soaring over the battlefields where many Confederacy craft lay in waiting. 

Both sides of the gunships were open to allow easy manoeuvrability of troops onto or off of the ground, but this made falling a dangerous possibility. As the ships hit turbulence, Kenobi decided to keep his fellow Jedi aware; "Hold on!" he said, grasping a handrail above. The Jedi and troops were all prepared, and clutched on tightly as they flew unsteadily through the air.

The crafts began to approach parts of the Banking Clan foundries, where large metallic towers loomed up into the sky, with clusters of cells grouped about their rims. They were undoubtedly part of some kind of vessel, but it was unclear as to exactly what. Commerce Guild dwarf Spider Droids scuttled about their foundations, their red eye sensors making them seem almost lifelike.

Anakin stepped forward toward the soldiers in the gun turrets of his ship, "Aim right above the fuel cells! That'll bring 'em down!"

The troopers nodded, and let loose a couple of torpedoes at the towers; they exploded just where Anakin had advised, and went down in spectacular style, crushing many Spider Droids below!

Kenobi smirked proudly, "Good call, my Padawan," he said. Anakin just nodded back, smiling a little – his mind was still on Padmé, so he was considerably preoccupied.

Whilst their gunship and a few others sped on, Mace's ship and the rest landed on the field below, preparing for further ground assaults against incoming Separatist forces. Yoda planned to oversee the organisation of the matter – he'd rather no more got killed today.

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**D**ooku and Padmé emerged into the dully-lit war room that Poggle had mentioned earlier. It was cleverly concealed within the depths of the Hive walls, and was an impressive set-up, complete with all the latest in warfare technology. There were consoles, manned by Geonosian technicians, rimming the walls, and a giant, circular table in the room's centre. It was clear to Padmé, from just seeing this war room alone, how deceptively well equipped the Separatists were for combat; they had been insightful enough to select the Geonosians for manufacture of their weapons, who were indeed amongst the best in that field in the galaxy. But then again, it could only be expected that a man of Dooku's intelligence would turn to such creatures to aid him and his cause in building an army. 

All of the Separatists were gathered in this chamber, stood at various intervals about the room. The atmosphere was exceptionally tense.

The Count grasped Padmé's arm – lighter this time – and marched her on toward the table. As Padmé approached it, she realised that it was no ordinary desk – it was a colossal, holographic map! She looked across it in awe – it was incredible! What it was currently showing, however was far from comforting.

Nute Gunray and his aide were stood nearby, and the Viceroy, seeing the Count finally join them in the chamber, opened his mouth once more, "The Jedi have amassed a huge army!" he groused, gesticulating all over the place with his scaly, grey hands. Gunray's Neimoidian aide nodded along with him fervently.

Dooku was obviously not pleased by this latest turn of events, but managed to keep his antagonism in check; he was a lot calmer now he was out of the bedlam of the arena. He slowly folded his arms, looking hard at the display on the map that depicted the activities going on outside the amphitheatre, aboveground; gunships were swooping over the barren Geonosian wastelands, forcing his Confederate army to come out of hiding and fight. White clad Republic soldiers were scuttling all over the place, on foot and on speeders, whilst Super & regular battle droids, Droidekas, and assorted other Separatist robots fought almost futilely against them. Republic walkers were crushing the Hailfire droids, and gunship torpedoes threatened to seriously damage the expensive Federation starship hubs and Techno Union craft. Things were definitely not good.

"Your powers of observation do you credit, Viceroy," Dooku said dryly in return to Gunray's remark, his sarcasm hardly coming through his tone; he shook his head, placing his hands onto his hips and taking a few slow steps to the right. 

Padmé watched him briefly, before looking back at the map; she was lost within the convictions of her own mind. The Republic had no army, she was certain of it! The 'Military Creation Act' hadn't been passed – at least, not since she'd known – and even if it had, the huge numbers of men and arsenal present here couldn't have been come across so rapidly by the Republic – it was impossible! She shook her head in frustration and perplexity – she just didn't understand it! It didn't make any sense!

"This doesn't seem possible," the Count suddenly commented, putting one hand to his bearded chin and rubbing it roughly, seeming to share Padmé's thoughts. He watched the display show another horde of Republic landing crafts drop down to the battlefield, releasing several six-legged ground walkers – machines that were basically tanks with legs. These began to march toward the Homing Spider Droids of the Commerce Guild, and looked set to wipe them out.

"How could the Jedi come up with an army so quickly?" he continued, asking his query openly. He looked across the Separatists scattered about the room; Po Nudo and Tikkes just shrugged sheepishly, and looked mutely back to the holographic map, whilst Tambor, Hill, and Mai all responded with a helpless silence; everyone was equally dumbfounded. 

"We must send all available droids into battle!" Nute abruptly demanded, shaking his fist in irritation toward the holographic replications of the Republic's forces.

The Count inhaled, shaking his head gently and splaying out his hands in gesture, "There are too many," he honestly replied, his tone quiet.

"I don't get it," Padmé finally voiced her concerns, her brow knitted in befuddlement. She looked over to the Count with a candid and troubled uncertainty. He returned her stare blankly, meticulously studying her countenance.

Gunray was quick to point fingers again, "_You _must know something of this!" he snapped, turning to the petite female human angrily, giving her an intense glare, "How long have the Republic been planning military action on us?"

Poggle shook his head; _["Asshole,"]_ he growled to himself, turning from the holo-map and trotting over to his technicians to check on their work. 

Dooku held back his grin, hearing the Archduke quite clearly; he could only concur with the Geonosian, being equally tired by Gunray's antics.

"We planned no violent assaults! None!" Padmé retorted, scowling indignantly at her long time nemesis, "Although now that I see exactly how much arsenal the Confederacy has stored, I wouldn't be surprised if the Republic had been secretly arming itself!"

"What are you doing in this movement then, 'Senator', if your values are still against us?" the Viceroy went on.

"I'm not strongly for either side anymore," she replied in a low voice, "I'm just against the rise of a Sith Lord into power."

Gunray opened his mouth to continue when Dooku cut him short; "Please, Viceroy," he shouted, "Enough!"

Nute's lip curled up in aversion, "There you go, sticking up for _her _again," he snorted, folding his arms like a child having a tantrum.

"Nute Gunray, must I remind you that my level of tolerance is not high at current, and that I will not hesitate to remove you from your post if I deem it necessary. I'm sure I could find a more cooperative Neimoidian, willing to represent the Trade Federation in the Confederacy, who is equally, if not more, enthusiastic about aiding the progression of my movement," Dooku snarled overbearingly from where he stood, folding his own arms in a derisive imitation, "Is that clear?"

Nute warbled on regardless, "You have no control over who leads the Federation! As long as I –" 

"Is that clear?" the Count repeated sharply, ignoring whatever Nute tried to drone back at him.

Gunray arrested, hesitating for several seconds whilst he considered his options, before sighing reluctantly, "_Yes_, 'Count'…"

Dooku threw him a typically charismatic grin; "I knew you'd see it my way."

Poggle returned to the border of the table, and took a place by Dooku's side. He tapped him once with his cane, and waited for the Separatist leader to turn about to look at him before saying, _["Our communications have been jammed…"] _He then slapped his staff firmly onto the floor, and blinked slowly at the Count.

Dooku cussed silently under his breath, and looked across to his right, his hand returning to his chin as he lapsed back into a personal contemplation of the matter.

"What?" Padmé asked Dooku, taking leave of her place near Gunray, "What did he say?" She stopped before the Count, and looked up at him intently.

"Our communications have been jammed," he said prudently, lowering his hand back to his side, before turning back to the map; he exhaled deeply, resting his hands onto the desk ledge, and blankly glared at the battlefield simulation.

Padmé leant next to him on the ledge, resting upon her elbows, "They must have some heavy-duty equipment with them, then," she deduced. Dooku just nodded in response.

Nute gasped in dismay as he watched his legions of battle droids being just completely overwhelmed by the foot soldiers of the Republic. His aide pointed over to their starship spheres, resting on the battlefield, "The Republic forces are getting too close," he stated to his Viceroy.

"Yes," Gunray grudgingly sighed, "Things are not looking good at all…"

The two Neimoidians continued to watch as several Republic gunships let loose torpedoes into their Federation starships' hubs, causing considerable damage to the large craft. Gunray's aide shook his head in a gesture of decisiveness, "We must get the starships back into space!" he advised urgently.

Gunray nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly, "Yes, at once!"

They turned and fled, leaving the war room to take care of their own munitions. The Count looked up, following the two out with his sharp gaze, and Padmé, too, watched them depart, glad at least to see the back of Gunray. There was a short silence once the Neimoidians had gone. Dooku relaxed down onto his elbows, his eyebrows rising as he pondered the situation.

Poggle made a decisive grunt to himself, slapping the edge of the desk, _["We have to order a retreat!]_

Dooku looked at him hard for several seconds, then made a nod of realisation, "Yes," he sighed quietly, "We do." He knew as well as Poggle that to fight such a wealth of Republic forces was in vain; they may as well preserve their forces for another battle at another time.

_[ I'm sending all of my warriors to hide in the catacombs,"]_ the Archduke continued, turning and walking over to a far wall unit.

Dooku turned to Padmé slowly; "You see, my lady, how the Republic have betrayed us?" he whispered, leaning his head toward her, "Sending their Jedi, and these weapons and machines of destruction to try and violently drag us out of our holes? It is they that have begun the war, not us, despite them making their people think that no war would ever be initiated by their hands."

Padmé didn't reply – he was right in some ways; as long as she wasn't subject to a Sith, she was safe. She just hoped Anakin would see it her way eventually. Infact, she just hoped Anakin and everyone was all right.

Dooku nodded, realising his words had been absorbed by his new ally's mind. He pushed himself up from his perch, and walked over to Poggle near one of the walls; "My Master will never allow the Republic to get away with this treachery," he growled as he approached the Archduke. 

Hovering up above the nearest console was a large, red, spherical hologram of some ominous looking contraption. It was projected out from the unit, and rotated slowly with a menacing hum. Poggle tapped several codes into this console, and took the spherical hologram back into the unit, before transferring it into a little, handheld device, _["The Republic must not find our plans for the ultimate weapon,"]_ he said, turning to the Count with the diminutive gadget, _["If they find out what we're planning to build, we're doomed."]_

Dooku looked down as the Archduke proceeded to place the minute contraption into his hand. He took it from the Geonosian, briefly flicking it into activation, watching a smaller version of the hologram hover above the appliance; "I will take the designs to Coruscant in due course," he said conservatively, "They will be much safer there, with my Master." He deactivated it, and slipped it safely into a hidden pocket within his dark suit.

Suddenly, the foundations shook with a giant '**boom'**, and rock chippings dropped from the walls. The Geonosian technicians looked to one-another in faint panic, chirping in their foreign tongue. Padmé lurched up from the desk, and looked about the room in surprise, whilst the other Separatists also jumped in shock, and cowered back to the walls; the battle was near to them, now, and that was _not_ good.

_["Get out of here, Serenn… the Geonosians are built to survive underground. You are not,"]_ Poggle said, looking about the ceiling unsurely as it crumbled slightly, _["I believe the structure will hold, though I can't promise you anything."]_

The Count nodded, and paced back to the table; he took Amidala by the arm gently, and walked her into a little space away from any of the other Separatists; "Padmé," he said aside, "We are ordering a retreat…you will come with me, and we'll get to safety before anything continues."

"With _you_?" she asked in response, "I need to get back to Naboo! I need to sort out everything with the Queen and the people! They don't know I've signed them away to this." Padmé looked down, suddenly feeling horribly guilty for what she had done – she had never liked it, but it had been the only way.

Dooku propped her head up, "Now is not the time to lose faith in yourself," he said, "Keep your head high, and prepare for a bumpy ride."

He released her, and turned back to his gathering, "My friends," he announced to them all, "We have unfortunately been apprehended by the forces of the Republic. The Trade Federation has left to save their starships – I advise that the rest of you do the same. Recall your forces, and retreat. We need to give the dust of today's conflicts time to settle before we strike again – and next time, they won't have it so easy."

Everyone looked at one another, then back to the Count, nodding slowly to themselves, mumbling in a disinclined agreement. 

"Don't lose hope, my friends," Dooku continued, "The Republic cannot win with this kind of tyrannical force."

"And what about regrouping? Where shall we rendezvous now that Geonosis is volatile ground?" Hill asked their leader, placing his dainty hands on his waist.

"Good question, San. Of course, we will need to return here at some point, but we will deal with that when the time comes. For now, everyone please make your whereabouts – wherever you may decide to now fly to – known to me within the next forty-eight hours. You can contact me on the usual wavelength," Dooku replied, "I will then call a convention at a safe location as soon as possible, and we can discuss today's losses and our feasible future's gains. We all just need time to recover. Patience is the key, my friends. Now good luck, and May the Force be with you…"

With that, the Separatists slowly began to deplete. 

Dooku watched them all leave the room, and then monitored the recalled forces take leave of the battlefields on the holo-map readout. Padmé walked to his side, and watched the holographic simulation of the Separatist forces leave whilst the Republic forces pursued them; "You're quite a speaker, Dooku," she said evenly to him.

He nodded gruffly, "Indeed. I was famous, or infamous for it, when I was a Jedi." He looked to her, "And call me Serenn, please."

She frowned tentatively; "I'd rather not," she admitted, "It kinda makes me feel…uncomfortable…"

He scoffed gently, "And we can't have that, now, can we?"

Poggle trotted over as another horrific blast from aboveground rocked the foundations; _["If you don't get out of here, Serenn, you'll be buried here forever with your 'darling'…"] _he grinned grimly.

He turned to the Archduke, "And I suppose we don't want that," he chuckled. He patted the Geonosian upon the shoulder, "Until we meet again, my friend."

Poggle nodded farewell, _["Until then, Serenn…take care."]_

Padmé looked up at the ceiling, "It looks a little unsound," she said. 

The Count grabbed her arm from behind, and ushered her along forward, "Hence why we're leaving_,_" he said, leading her on out of the place.

"And where exactly are we going?"

"Serenno"

"Serenno?" she asked as they made their way up a metallic plated stairway, "I need to get back to Naboo!"

"Not yet, you don't. It's not safe for me to release you there."

"Not safe? It's my home!"

"And currently part of the Republic… trust me."

She silenced, letting him haul her along. She didn't feel the darkness or the pressure that she'd felt from him earlier – it wasn't quite as intense at the moment. Perhaps it was just best not to struggle.

**TBC…**

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NB: Ouch… long-o chapter! Trés, trés long-o chapter… ^_^


	7. Confrontation with the Count

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to **Blitzen who threw me some helpful criticism about my spellings and grammar and stuff – I'm now gonna _slowly_ go back over what I've written and just correct a few minor boo-boos before I go on. She's also gonna BETA my work, which is great! This'll be my most refined fanfic ever!**

There's a smidgen of swearing in this chapter, btw – and it's taken me several hours combined to write this blasted thing, so you all had better enjoy it! LOL

Just so that you don't have to wait any longer, I've posted this before thoroughly checking it – I've read through it, but in two sessions (it takes that long!), so there may still be mistakes in it and stuff that needs slight editing, but I think it's all okay! MTFBWY!

**Ami:** You don't understand my Dooku fascination? Heh – well, I'm afraid I just can't help how I feel! It's original, though, isn't it? And you seem intrigued by it, anyway, so it can't be all bad! ^_^ Thanks for reading!

**Heather Wan:** I haven't read the AotC novel, so I can't compare, but thankyou anyway – it's a most flattering comment! And don't even _think_ about what's waiting up my sleeve… it's not pleasant! o_0 Honestly, it isn't. I hope you like going as dark as dark can go, and as cruel as cruel can be…

**Merrymoll:** Thankies! I've got myself liking Poggle now, too… I like these 'minor' baddies. And the hangar duel is nasty – and I hope you like it, coz it took me forever to write!

**Skywalker-Blue:** No, I ain't posted it on TF.net forums – I don't really go to that site much. I have signed up as a BETA reader on their fanfic area, now, though, but I wouldn't submit this fic coz it kinda dances on the border of PG-13. ^_~ On another note, yes Dooku _is_ being nicer to Padmé… for now. I have made the story an AU – it always has been one, but I've been thinking about where to take it for ages! Don't expect anything _too_ happy to come out of it, though; the _real_ Episode 3's gonna be dark enough, but this… well, can you say 'pitch black'? Heh – when I go dark, I can go seriously dark…

**Disclaimer**: No… I still own **nothing**. Does anyone know where can I buy shares in Tyranus and Sidious…? ^_~

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 7**

**K**enobi held his arm infront of his face as the gunship he was aboard ploughed through a cloud of dust, thrown up from the battlefield below; a Federation starship had been shot down by the Republic forces, and had in turn fallen to the ground, sending up masses of sight-obscuring debris into the atmosphere. 

As the gunship finally began to emerge from this debris-filled cloud, and vision became clearer, Obi-Wan spotted movement over across the red sand dunes below; "Look over there!" he shouted, pointing abruptly toward the horizon.

Anakin turned in the direction that his Master was indicating, squinting hard through the murky air. Then he saw it, too – a speeder bike, rapidly rushing across the inhospitable wilderness, flanked in the skies above by two small Geonosian fighters; "It's Dooku," he growled, the essence of the Count irrefutable to his Force senses. His fists tightened, and he gritted his teeth, his anger burning within, "Shoot 'im down!" he ordered.

"No, don't!" Kenobi quickly cut his Padawan off. 

Anakin frowned at his Master, feeling wrongfully reproved.

The trooper manning the gun turret turned to Obi-Wan, "We're out of rockets anyway, sir," he reported obediently.

Kenobi nodded, taking this in; "Just follow him," he commanded plainly, before slowly turning back to Anakin. He saw the frustration on his protégé's visage, and said bluntly, before his Padawan could snap at him; "He has Padmé with him."

"What?" Anakin cried, pushing past his Master, and leaning just out of the ship so that he could have a clear view of the Count ahead. He focused hard on the tiny craft, and sure enough, Padmé was with the Count, sat behind him on the speeder…and seeming to be holding on for dear life. Ani turned back to Obi-Wan, "We've gotta stop him!" he stated urgently and without question.

"We will, Anakin, be patient," Kenobi replied steadily, gesturing downwards with his hands in a placating motion.

"Patient? Master, he has Padmé with him! I won't let him take her away from me!"

"She's a fully grown and very intelligent woman, my young Padawan," Obi sharply responded, "She can take care of herself."

"You just don't understand!" Anakin hollered with aggravation.

"_Anakin_!" Obi-Wan bellowed, raising his voice above his apprentice's, "Enough!" 

Anakin looked hard at his Master, his lip twitching in irritation.

"Don't lose your head," Kenobi continued, "I can't take Dooku alone. I _need_ you! If we catch him, we can end this war right now! Focus on that! You can't afford to let your emotions rule you. We have a job to do."

Ani turned away, inhaling deeply in an attempt to keep his cool – what did his Master know of how he was feeling? He'd never fallen in love, or had his mother die in his arms! He didn't have a clue about life outside of the confines of the Jedi Temple! He didn't know anything, and he couldn't possibly understand!

Kenobi shook his head discreetly at the boy, feeling his ability to control his reckless Padawan slipping. He held on to the handrail above as the ship rocked through another field of turbulence, and concentrated on the battle he was sure was ahead. He just hoped that his weary body would hold out.

**T**he unmistakable thrum of a Republic Cruiser was gaining momentum behind; soon, it'd be on top of them. 

Padmé turned and looked at the approaching gunship, it's rough hide glinting a little in the light of the setting Geonosian sun. It seemed to be the only one in their pursuit and had, surprisingly, made absolutely no effort to shoot them down. Not that this was a bad thing at all; she just felt that it was quite odd.

She turned back round to face the front and clutched Dooku firmly about the waist, leaning her head upon his back – his body made a good shield from the wind, at least. She had good reason to hold on so tight – she knew that if her grip faltered, she'd fall off. And at this speed, there was no guarantee one would get up again if that did occur.

Padmé watched the sand flash by beneath her, the speeder bike shooting at a phenomenal speed over the red desert; she wasn't a huge fan of speeder-bike travel, but it was quick and agile, if nothing else. 

Up in the air, flanking her and the Count, were two Geonosian fighter ships, acting as escorts and guards. These two craft were small, dagger-like vehicles, painted a dull gold, which had tiny, bubble-like cockpits, in which the pilots operated, and were armed with deceptively powerful gun turrets. 

The Count himself now made a fleeting look back at the Republic gunship as he heard it approaching behind him; it wasn't too close, and didn't pose too much of a threat, but he knew that it was better to be safe than sorry. Turning back around, he inputted a code into the interface of his speeder's control panel, sending an order to both his fighter craft escorts to shoot the gunship down. He then increased the momentum of his speeder, and shot on forward – time was of the essence.

The Geonosian fighters received the command, and somersaulted about in the air, circling backwards overhead until they came behind the gunship, before then letting a rapid volley of vicious fire loose upon it. It knocked the Republic vessel wildly astray, and proved that the petite Geonosian fighters more than made up for their size with their firepower!

**A**board, Anakin, Kenobi and the entourage clung on to whatever they could as their ship was violently assaulted, and they were flung all over the deck! There were a couple of loud cries as two of the troopers fell from the ship, and plummeted down to the sand below; fortunately, they weren't too high into the air, and the sand cushioned their fall.

"The bastard!" Anakin cried without thought, grasping on to a handgrip above, trying to keep his feet stable on the ship's floor. 

Before Kenobi could rebuke his Padawan for language, the Geonosian fighters unleashed another harsh torrent of laser fire into the ship's hull, and they were thrown all over the place, within the transport, yet again.

"Hurry!" Obi-Wan urged the pilot, "Try and out run them before we get blown into smithereens!"

"Yes sir," the composed pilot replied; speed was his only means of defence at current, seeing as the vessel's entire arsenal and been spent on the battles over the droid foundries earlier. He did his best to dodge and outrun the Geonosian fighters, but they were so fast and nimble in comparison to his bulky gunship that it made his job almost impossible.

**P**admé glanced back once again to the Republic craft behind, watching the Count's fighter guardians make short work of it, and throw it off course. She swallowed slowly before turning back toward the front again, and by now noticed that a large tower was looming up on the horizon, its pinnacle reaching high into the heavens; it was another of the Geonosian termite-like mounds. This one was particularly tall, though, and it seemed to look most ominous in the red light of the waning sun as the day drew to an end…

The Count revved up his bike's velocity once more, and gave the repulsorlift a sharp thrust, attaining further height from the ground. Padmé maintained her grip on him, watching the desert floor fall further and further away from her feet as Dooku took the craft up into the air. Looking ahead, just over his shoulder, she saw that there was an opening in the approaching tower wall – a metallic ramp projected out from the rock face that led into a dark hangar within. She squinted in the sunlight, the laser fire of the Geonosian fighters still audible behind them, and watched as they came closer and closer to the outcropping.

"**T**hey're heading for that hangar door!" Anakin yelled, pointing ahead; he had to grab on hard to the handrail again as the craft thrust to the left, the Geonosian fighters giving the gunship pilot hell. Kenobi backed into one of the ship's inner walls, leaning into it for balance, "Patience, Anakin!" he ordered, but knew his efforts were in vain – his Padawan was in too firm a frenzy.

Anakin took his lightsabre from his belt – the green one he'd been lent in the arena battle – and held it loosely in his hand, preparing to take Dooku on in combat and win Padmé back, "Drop us off on that projection!" he ordered the pilot.

"As you wish, sir," the pilot replied, pushing the gunship into a final burst of speed toward the tower in a last ditch attempt to outmanoeuvre the Geonosian fighters.

Obi-Wan pulled himself over to his Padawan's side, "Don't rush in, Anakin," he warned him quietly, though stringently; he knew that his apprentice was a skilled duellist, but so was the Count. Notoriously so.

Anakin watched as Dooku's speeder rushed into the opening in the sandstone wall of the tower. It was only a matter of moments before he'd have Padmé back by his side, and he didn't care if it meant bloodying his hands…

**D**ooku brought his speeder bike to a stop in the secret hangar; it was cleverly concealed within the rocky mountainside, and far enough away from the main Hives as to be an assuredly safe place for him to leave his main vessel. Padmé heaved a sigh of relief, pulling her arms back from about the Count, and sliding off of the bike, whilst Dooku merely stepped off the speeder as if the chase across the desert had been something completely of the norm. He wafted his cloak about to knock off any stray grains of sand, before walking calmly across the room to a small control panel, elevated on a platform from the floor. 

Padmé took a few slow steps about the vicinity, looking unsurely around the rock-strewn chamber; the ceiling and main structure of the room were made of the standard Geonosian sandstone, naturally complete with the twin sickle border, whilst the floor was covered in a dull, grey metal. Several metallic pillars reached up from the floor to the ceiling in odd corners of the chamber; they seemed to be part of some kind of system, and she speculated probably provided power to the hangar. 

Looking about to where the Count was, she finally spotted a large ship, sat patiently waiting on its legs by the far wall. It looked very much alike the Geonosian speeders that had recently given them cover across the desert, but was larger, and seemed somewhat more refined.

"Is that your ship?" she asked, pacing over to him.

"Yes," he replied abruptly, flicking about on his control panel.

She nodded, looking about the room again, beginning to feel a little uneasy.

Suddenly, the Count stopped fidgeting over his console, and turned to look toward his vessel; it faced up into a funnel, through which Padmé guessed it would soar out into the open, and fly away. As he pressed down onto a button, the end of this funnel flooded with sunlight – he had opened the hatch at the end of it.

"Get on board," he ordered unquestionably.

Padmé looked at him silently, before hesitantly beginning to walk toward the ship, taking steady, but tentative steps.

And then it began…

"You're gonna pay for all the Jedi you killed today, Dooku!"

The Count froze, and calmly turned about on the spot – in the far doorway stood Anakin and Kenobi, lightsabres at the ready. He looked over them both silently, unmoved.

Padmé also froze as she heard her lover's familiar tone. She turned around and her heart leapt with joy as she set her eyes on, not just Anakin, but Kenobi too, both still alive and well. She opened her mouth to shout over to them, but, all of a sudden, her breath jarred in her throat – she couldn't shout! Her words had just cut short! And then she realised what was going on; she felt it again…a cold, dark influence seeping into her mind, clutching her consciousness, and barring her will. She looked across to Dooku, and noticed him give her a slight glance out of the corner of his eyes – he'd reinstated his hold on her. For now, he just wanted to keep her out of the way.

By this time, Anakin had seen Padmé, stood near Dooku's sleeping ship; he wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms, but he didn't – he had serious business at hand first. He turned his sabre handle about in his palm, eyeing Dooku hard. The elderly warrior just glared back in silence, his own hand going to his side as he anticipated a violent brawl.

"We'll take him together," Obi-Wan said to his protégé under his breath, keeping his eyes on Dooku, "You go in slowly on the left, and –"

Anakin's fuse blew, and he lost control of his rage, "I'm taking him now!!" he cried, rushing at the Count in frenzy, his eyes livid.

"No, Anakin! No! _No_!!" Kenobi yelled, fearing that this would happen. But it was too late…Anakin was storming unstoppably, lightsabre a-blazing, across the open floor of the hangar, eager to tear the Count apart! Padmé just stood and watched in dismay, powerless to intervene…

At first, it seemed as if Dooku had no intention of even defending himself – he stood stark still, watching the boy calmly with his sharp eyes, biding his time, until, at the last moment, when Anakin was but metres from him, he flung his arm up before him, and –

"**ARGHH**!!" Anakin suddenly screamed, buckling forward and halting in his path – shards of vicious Sith Lightning were flying from Dooku's fingers, and cascading ferociously into the young Padawan! The electrical energy thundered through his body, burning his innards with a horrific strength, striving to find ground; they travelled through his every limb, and could be seen traversing wildly over his skin and clothes.

"_Anakin_!" Padmé screamed, at last finding her voice; never had she known that any man or woman could hold such power of the likes of that which Dooku was now expelling…it was terrifying.

Obi-Wan stood motionless, equally shocked – Sith Lightning had been but a rumour, a tale young and naïve Padawans told one-another before bed…never had he ever dreamt that such a horror could exist, and, even worse, that a man who had once been a Jedi could master this malevolent art.

Combining the Sith Lightning with further Force powers, Dooku went on to lift Anakin into the air, and toss him into the far wall. Anakin's body hit the rock face with an almighty clash, and he then dropped lifeless to the floor, the Count simultaneously releasing him from his hold and ceasing his conjured lightning. The unruly Jedi apprentice could only heave a great sigh of agony as he found himself unable to get back to his feet, slight wisps of smoke rising from his scorched clothes and flesh.

Kenobi swallowed hard, glaring at Dooku with a further feeling of betrayal. He approached the Count little by little, holding his sabre up toward the old warrior in a hope that it would block any Sith Lightning that he decided to throw at him.

Padmé stared over at Anakin in despair, desperate to run to him and see if he was all right, but was unable to get herself to do so, still nailed to the spot by Dooku's indiscernible control.

"As you can see, my Jedi powers are far beyond yours," the Count mused certainly, holding his hand up toward Kenobi, "Now, be a sensible lad…back down." 

Powerful wisps of lightning again emerged from Dooku's fingertips, and exploded toward Kenobi – but luckily, Obi's insight had been correct, and his lightsabre blocked the incoming shards of electricity. Obi-Wan tried to remain composed, wearing a brave face, "I don't think so," he hissed, successfully keeping a cool demeanour. Dooku made his typical eyebrow shrug gesture in response as he circumspectly circled the Jedi Knight, bringing his arm down to his hip. From beneath the folds of his cloak he slowly withdrew his hand, firmly clasped about the hilt of a smooth, silver lightsabre, elegant and curved in shape, reflecting the refined and dignified air of its master. He proceeded to extend his arms out to either side of him, activating the weapon in his right hand and bringing forth a blade of red nature. 

Padmé looked at the Count in surprise – she hadn't noticed the hilt hung from his belt before (she guessed that he'd kept it well concealed within the pleats of his cloak) but had honestly never expected him to be one active in the field of combat; he was a political protagonist and debater, but she'd not thought of him as a fighter. Then again, she'd found a lot of things out about the Count that she'd rather not have in these past few hours.

Suddenly, Kenobi rushed fast toward Dooku, swinging a reckless blow toward his head. The Count grinned grimly, effortlessly parrying the cut, and reversing into another assault. Obi hurried into a block, shuddering beneath the impact of the blow as their sabres clashed; it wasn't encouraging for him that he already found himself struggling against Dooku, the older warrior's strikes not powerful, but deft and efficient; the harder he tried to surpass the Count's defences, the worse a position he found himself in…

It quickly became clear to Padmé that Dooku was a complete swordsman – he was elegant and graceful, with an unmistakable classical edge – a master of the old style. She couldn't fault his adept and smooth moves, and this further frightened her; on the outside, Dooku was a fine politician; on the inside, he was so much more – a polished fighter, an iniquitous oppressor, and a vicious rogue.

Kenobi slung a cleaving shot down across the Count's knees – but the latter parried it, thrusting the Jedi's blade aside, and making Obi fall a little off balance. In this instant, Dooku clipped Kenobi's ankles with a short, sharp kick, causing the Jedi to stumble a little. Obi-Wan quickly re-established his balance and stepped away from the Count cautiously, needing to regain some form of control and composure before he continued his rally against one of the Jedi's former paramount duellists.

Dooku's facial expression had become scornful, his character now sardonic and contemptible, "Grand Master Kenobi," he sneered mockingly, making a derisive bow to the Knight, "You disappoint me. Yoda holds you in such high esteem."

Kenobi's lip trembled in odium, but he held his tongue, and concentrated all his energies into the mêlée, thrusting a violent shot toward Dooku's ribcage. The Count easily parried this next cut, trapping Obi's blue sabre beneath his own for a moment; "Surely you can do better...?" he grinned widely, his smirk so wicked and mordant that Kenobi lost all tranquillity and swung an imprudent and reckless shot round toward Dooku's back. Showing up his Jedi opponent, the Count merely flipped his blade over his shoulder behind, and averted the incoming assault effortlessly; "No, I'm surprised," he continued, wheeling rapidly about to deflect Obi-Wan's next attempt at lacerating him, "Has Jedi swordsmanship really degenerated so quickly, or are you trying to make fun of me?"

Obi-Wan pulled back his sabre, moving into yet another fruitless assault, hacking wildly toward Dooku's neck. The Count parried then smoothly reversed; "Which is it?" he continued, inviting a reply to his contemptuous queries as he went on to make a swift cut toward Kenobi's waist; Obi was just quick enough to elude this next blow, deciding not to retort to the Count's disdainful comments, but his weariness was seriously catching up with him now, and he had to blink hard to stay focused as, in his line of vision, Dooku's sabre seemed to blur out into two, then back into one again; that was not a good sign.

The Count thrust his blade hard across Kenobi's chest, but Obi-Wan managed to once again deflect the blow; however, so hard had this strike rained down upon his weapon, that he was forced to stumble backward behind its impact. He hastily stepped back, holding his lightsabre up toward Dooku as he panted for breath, his limbs aching with exhaustion. 

Dooku twisted and twirled his weapon skilfully about in his dexterous hands, creating a brief red swirling vortex before him, "Come, come, Master Kenobi," he derided, pointing his sabre in the direction of Obi's collarbone, "Put me out of my misery."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying not to show how aggravated the Count's relentless insults were making him, and got a fresh grip on his lightsabre, eyeing the Separatist leader hard. He felt a globule of sweat trickle down his forehead; he was so tired, but he knew he had to keep fighting – he couldn't let Dooku get the better of him! He rushed at the Count, and leapt into the air, swinging his sabre down over Dooku's head as he came into land. The weapons hissed and sizzled against each other as they clashed, a furious friction burning between the blades, and, for a moment, Kenobi managed to drive Dooku back – he pummelled the former Jedi with a combination of rapid blows, coming from all directions, twisting, twirling and swinging his blade in all manners possible as he attempted to elude the dexterous Count. It never occurred to Kenobi that the sinister Separatist was purely slackening his offensive for personal amusement…

Suddenly, Dooku's superior skills began to tell again as he tired of this game, and he forced Obi-Wan into a hasty retreat, swinging, slashing, thrusting and lunging at the drained Jedi with his red sabre in a brutal reprisal; even though his attack was forceful, it was by no means reckless or wild – it was elegant and premeditated, echoing the dignity and proficiency of the man himself.

Padmé shook her head, alarmed by the rapidity of Dooku's dominance over Kenobi in combat. She swallowed, looking across to Anakin as he writhed a little on the floor, trying to get back to his feet – but the pain that the Sith Lightning had inflicted upon him was still proving too much.

Dooku increased the tempo of his attack until Kenobi could barely cope any more; Obi-Wan was pushed to his limit as he tried to defend himself, the Count pressing him further and further back, giving him no choice but to take retreating steps. Their lightsabres flashed and sizzled as they came against one-another's time and again, the smell of ozone filling the air, and the crackle of raw, fatal energy echoing about the cavernous walls. 

Then, all of a sudden, the Count's lightsabre flashed rapidly passed Kenobi's, breaking his flagging defence!

"_Argh_!" Kenobi cried, Dooku's sabre inflicting a burning wound across his shoulder. He began to tumble downward, the pain too much for his already ravaged body to take. But the Count wasn't prepared to leave it at that – he quickly jabbed his sabre down toward Kenobi's leg in a follow-through assault; "_ARGH_!!" the weary Jedi yelled again, but more intensely than before, his inner thigh now also scorched by the Count's blade, his flesh savagely impaired. He stumbled over his own exhausted feet, and collapsed onto the floor, his lightsabre skittering away across the room. He cringed in agony, sweating beading his body, and put a hand to his leg in a vague hope that it would impede the pain that pulsated from his wound; he felt completely unable to go on.

The Count looked down upon Kenobi with little expression, swinging his sabre around in his hand again as he paced about Obi-Wan's lame form. Padmé shook her head; "Please don't," was all she could quietly utter, fearing for Obi's life, "Please don't…" Her feet still seemed to be frozen to the spot, and she couldn't seem to pull herself free; the Count was taking no chances with her during this encounter. 

Slowly, Dooku raised his lightsabre over his head, stepping up to the side of Obi-Wan's body. Kenobi looked up to him anxiously and helplessly, wincing in grief as his wounds throbbed vigorously, sending unbearable shocks of agony round his fatigued body.

"I'm sorry, old friend," Dooku murmured as he and Kenobi's eyes met, echoing his earlier words to Mace. He swallowed, his gaze hardening, and in a swift movement, he plunged his sabre down toward Kenobi. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and Padmé turned away in horror, unable to watch such carnage – but suddenly…

_CLASH_!

Padmé heard the friction of two sabres meeting once again. Forcing herself to turn back round, she saw that, miraculously, Anakin was back into the fray! Dooku and the teenage Padawan stared eyeball-to-eyeball, each giving the other the most formidable look. It was then that Padmé couldn't help but see the strong parallels between the two men – they shared similarly intense eyes, embodied enormous Force potential, and were both incredibly obstinate, always wanting their own way.

"Brave of you, boy – but foolish," Dooku said boldly, his voice deep and officious, "I would have thought you'd have learnt your lesson."

Anakin threw him a cocky nod, "I am a slow learner," he smiled caustically, throwing the Count briefly off-balance with a rapid attack, fuelled by his deep-set antagonism. Anakin's lightsabre flashed, swinging violently toward Dooku – first to the left, then down to the right; it came up from below, then down from overhead, and all the time, the Count was forced to parry quickly and efficiently, given no time to move into his favoured stance of offence. 

Then, completely to his surprise, Dooku felt a sharp pain shoot down his arm as Anakin's sabre blazed past his eyes; "_Ach_!" he cringed fleetingly, drawing back. He slung his free hand onto his arm, and held it there for a moment, whilst Anakin, meanwhile, paused unsurely. 

Seeing that the elder warrior was momentarily occupied, Anakin managed to throw Padmé a brief glance; he saw the fear on her face and sensed the trauma in her heart, and found himself only more fuelled up to finish the Count off – he was responsible for causing Padmé all this woe, and he would pay!

Dooku looked at his arm as he slowly removed his hand from where he'd planted it, revealing a smear of blood where Anakin had nicked him. He looked hard at the sore wound, almost in denial of the fact that his defences had been penetrated. Taking a few breaths, he suddenly felt a colossal rage flood through him; he drew on the power of the Dark side to feed his fury, and fill his every limb with a renewed strength and vigour. Lifting his line of sight to again focus on Anakin, the Count's eyes lit up with the vicious frenzy that had taken over his entire body; "You have unusual powers, young Padawan," he growled menacingly, opting to ignore his wound for the time being and resume combat; he took the hilt of his sabre firmly by two hands, and paced toward the Padawan undauntedly, "But not enough to save you this time," he fearlessly added, with an unmistakable note of finality.

Anakin lowered his blue lightsabre, fully prepared to annihilate the former Jedi, "Don't bet on it!" he scoffed.

From his lame position on the floor, Kenobi managed to conjure up just enough energy to draw his lightsabre back to his hand. Then, turning to where his Padawan stood, he cried, "Anakin!" and hurled the hilt over to him.

Catching the weapon in his free hand, Anakin activated this second blade, and stood _en garde_ with two lightsabres – one green, one blue – before launching into a horrific assault, spinning, slashing and thrusting repeated blows toward the Count with a wild and uncontrollable vehemence. But Dooku proved his worth, showing the boy why he had such a strong reputation as a duellist, and effortlessly parried and averted everything thrown at him, fuelled with an extra vigilance of his own from the rage his wound had incited. 

Anakin glowered in disbelief as he was suddenly driven further and further back into a corner of the room, unable to keep up with the smooth and elegant attacks instigated by the Count. 

Dooku forced young Anakin to drop the green lightsabre hilt when he successfully made a sharp thrust toward it and cleaved its head clear off, rendering it completely ineffective; he had come from behind with one weapon to reduce the boy to just one now, too. This further frustrated the wild Padawan, and he tried to take control of the situation by drawing the Count further back into the dark alcove of the room, into which Dooku had already forced him, hoping to turn things to his advantage. 

Skywalker spotted a flexible pipeline that was left slung across the floor, near a pillar that was in a close proximity to them, and spun over it, severing it with his blade; with a fizzle, the dim lights that had faintly illuminated the gloomy corner diminished into darkness, leaving the Count and Anakin stood facing one another in the shadows, their blades alone illuminating each of them with an eerie blue and red glow.

Obi sighed as the pain seemed only to intensify from his wounds, but angled his head up so that he could watch Anakin fight, fearing for his Padawan's life. Padmé still could only just watch, lightsabre combat meaning nothing but death and destruction to her; she hadn't forgotten that Qui-Gon had been lost due to such conflict, and she hoped that her two Jedi friends wouldn't go the same way.

Dooku and Anakin stood still, sabres held high over their heads as they prepared to go into another stage of the onslaught. Skywalker's face shone dimly with blue light, whilst Dooku's was splashed with a blood-red glow. There was a long pause; the severed pipeline sparked and spluttered with stray electricity in the silence, adding a literal electrical friction to the atmosphere.

Suddenly, Anakin made his move, his sabre swinging down toward the Count – and, in the blink of an eye, Dooku followed, moving his sabre to intercept the Padawan's. Their sabres clashed, drew apart, spun about, and clashed again. They reeled about, turning back to face one-another before, once more, their blades locked. Blue merged with red as the glow of their sabres flashed across their faces; their eyes were focused, their thoughts fixed solely on the battle, each knowing that any missteps or erroneous moves would cost them their lives.

Dooku drove Anakin back toward a slim corner between the near pillar and the rock face. Sensing a wall behind him (and therefore a trap), Anakin threw the Count off of him with a firm joust of his sabre, before turning, rushing up the wall, and flipping back over Dooku's head. Dooku wheeled about, swinging his sabre around, anticipating such a move, but was caught off guard once again; "_ARGH_!" he cried sharply as the Padawan's blade thrust across his torso. Luckily, the lightsabre was too distant to cause too much damage, but the tip had been close enough to sear through his shirt and graze his chest. He bolted back a little, hissing at his own ineptitude, and glanced down at the seared line of broken flesh on his breast; every breath he took now causing him some agony due to the location of the abrasion.

Now he was foully angry; the Count tore his cloak from about his neck, feeling hindered by it, and flung himself toward the boy, pinning Anakin's blue sabre down toward the floor before he swung an out-of-character kick into the side of the young Jedi's head. Skywalker yelled as the Count's boot knocked against his jaw, and he fell off balance onto the ground. Shaking his head, Anakin rapidly flipped back onto his feet, knowing that he couldn't leave himself open for a second. His impulsiveness quickly compensated itself, as he was up just in time to parry a cut aimed to chop his arm clear off. 

Dooku reversed from this failed assault with an inconceivable speed, totally belying his age, and, in his subsequent attack, managed to just scrape the Padawan's arm with his sabre; "_Argh_!" Anakin cried, briefly buckling to his knees as he was burnt across his thigh. He urged himself on hurriedly, again given just enough time to stumble back onto his feet before Dooku's vicious blade had chance to sever his leg.

In the end, it was no contest; the Count's blade swerved and flashed before Anakin's eyes, dazing him, and soon the boy could simply not keep the fight up any longer; and, in one final tremendous sweep, Dooku lopped off Anakin's arm at the elbow, sending the severed limb flying across the floor, lightsabre still in hand!

"**ARGHH**!" the boy yelled, his voice echoing off of the walls excruciatingly, the pain of the dreadful wound intolerable.

Padmé inhaled in shock, watching, completely powerless, as the man that she loved was ruthlessly defeated by the vicious Separatist; "_Ani_!" she cried tearfully, still set to the spot by the Count's will.

Before Anakin even had time to plummet to the floor, the Count raised his hand, and sent him soaring back into his master's lame form with a vigorous thrust of the Force. Obi-Wan grunted as his apprentice's body landed on his leg, the boy now completely unconsciousness, overtaken by pain and general exhaustion.

Dooku exhaled several times, his passionate fury subsiding as reality slowly began to come back to him. He deactivated his sabre, hooking it back onto his belt, and then cringed as he felt his chest wound throb; he put a jaded hand to it, running his fingers along the perforation, and gritted his teeth in response to the pain that that incurred; it was a nasty wound, though not fatal. Padmé looked at him in horror, stunned and terrified by the display that he had given – she couldn't quite read the expression on his face now, though; she expected a victorious look, but his visage seemed bland and uncertain. She didn't have time to further consider this, however, as the events again took an unexpected turn…

Dooku swallowed heavily, clearly drained from his overly violent battle, but had no time to recover; his senses alerted him to some presence approaching behind, and he slowly turned around, looking about sternly as a long shadow crept around the hangar entranceway. The tapping of a cane could be heard resounding against the floor, accompanied by little grunts of effort – it was clear to the Count who his next visitor was:

"Master Yoda," he nodded in a brusque greeting as the small Jedi Master appeared from around the corner.

There was a short silence as Yoda drew himself up, placing his walking stick before him steadily, "Count Dooku," he returned, equally unyielding.

"You have interfered with our affairs for the last time," Dooku said to him, going straight into business, and raising his hand to the wall, pulling a metallic appendage loose via the power of the Force, before then hurling it toward Yoda. The diminutive Jedi dropped his cane, collecting his own Force energies, and raised his hands above his head, managing to halt the appendage's descent with his own superb powers, before throwing it aside. It clattered to the floor futilely, and the two combatants stared gravely at one another.

The Count then rapidly whipped his hand up again, commanding another metallic implement to come loose from the wall – he tossed this one toward Yoda with an increased vigour, concentrating all of his strengths into his Force-powered assaults. Again, the small Jedi merely caught the object in his invincible hold, and flung it aside into another wall. He growled at Dooku, holding his arms out in a defensive stance, staring deeply into the lofty warrior's eyes.

The Count's lip twitched, and he raised both of his arms up above his head, conjuring up enough power to pull large shards of rock loose from the ceiling above. The room filed with the thunderous cracking of the sandstone roof as it was torn apart by Dooku; holding several large pieces of the ceiling in midair, the Count then thrust his arms downwards, sending the fragments flying down on top of Yoda. The little Jedi heaved a great sigh as he drew together an almighty amount of his own energy, and managed to halt the rocks in their descent, suspending them above his head for a few seconds, before casting them aside with an almighty groan of effort.

He exhaled once more as he beheld the former Jedi Master in his eyes, "Powerful you have become, Dooku," he said quietly, "The Dark side I sense in you…"

"I've become more powerful than any Jedi," the Count shot back, bringing his hand up before him again, fingers pointing out toward Yoda, "Even you." Force Lightning shot from his fingertips as he completed his sentence with a sinister tone, and hurtled across the chamber toward Yoda. Yoda, however, was an exceptionally skilled Jedi Master, and using all of his expertise, he caught the lightning in his small hands, collecting the vicious, raw energy into a ball, before flinging it back at Dooku. If the Count was surprised, he didn't show it – he knew Yoda too well to not expect some kind of incredible comeback assault; he held his hand, palm outward, and deflected the returning lightning off into a wall. It clashed against the rock face with a horrific smash, sending shards of sandstone clattering to the floor. 

Padmé swallowed, drawing back across the room, trying to get as far away from the conflict as possible; the area around her had quickly fallen into disarray, with the walls and the metallic instruments within the chamber considerably damaged. The electric pipeline that Anakin had severed earlier was still spluttering in the dim corner, and slight sparks were now flying from the spots where Dooku had wrenched implements from the walls.

Frowning in discontent, Dooku decided to give his offensive another go, and hurled another bout of electricity at the Jedi Master, amplifying its power. But, once again, it failed to get past Yoda's strong defences, and his efforts amounted to nothing but a Sith Lightning to-and-fro game. Ceasing his assaults, Dooku glared harshly at the little Jedi, inhaling heavily to replenish his hungry lungs and waning energy stores.

"Much to learn, you still have," Yoda said dryly, his tiny mouth curling up into a slight smile toward the Separatist leader.

Dooku felt himself weakening, his injuries taking their toll, and his energy stores – mainly consumed by the taxing Sith Lightning assaults – diminishing rapidly. He also had a sense of urgency to get away; carrying the plans for the 'ultimate weapon', he knew he couldn't afford to persist with this game much longer. Soon, reinforcements of Republic troops would arrive, and he'd be caught, the precious plans seized from him and the Confederacy ruined. And that would mean only trouble. He couldn't just walk out on this duel, though – he was no coward, and wanted to finish things properly. 

However, he knew that time was not going to allow for that…

"It is clear that this contest cannot be decided by our knowledge of the Force," he glowered toward Yoda, a faint expression of amusement upon his visage; the sound of an activated laser sword ruptured into the air as Dooku took his sabre hilt back into his hand, red blade again at the ready, and prepared for his third swordfight of the day; "But by our skills with a lightsabre," he continued, completing his sentence. He swung the blade up before his head in a salute toward Master Yoda, showing that he still held some honour within him, and then thrust it down by his side, prepared to attack.

In turn, Yoda drew open his cloak, and pulled his own small lightsabre hilt into his hand with the Force, activating a smaller, yet no less lethal, green blade. 

Seeing that Yoda was game, Dooku took a deep breath, drawing on all of his strengths, before taking a couple of steps forward and leaping into the air, somersaulting high overhead in a stunt that would have been regarded as incredible for anyone to perform, never mind an elderly man. Yoda, in turn, launched himself forward with a cry wrought from the depths of his lungs, careering into action against the Count. 

Dooku came gracefully into land, before he locked sabres with the Jedi Order's greatest, his blade crashing down onto Yoda's with a brutal might. Yoda parried the blow, and reversed, and from then the two spun into a fast and frightening battle.

Padmé could hardly believe her eyes – a tiny Jedi, little over two feet tall, fighting with a man beyond six feet in height! She could only see a green blur where Yoda was, his sabre spinning and whirring about speedily as the little Jedi jumped, flipped and bounded in all directions; words could not describe the extraordinariness of Yoda's performance! His size made him a difficult opponent for the Count due to his loftiness, but Dooku still managed to prove his skill, deflecting every blow Yoda rained down upon him efficiently and smoothly with an elegant finesse. Their sabres spun, clashed, swerved about, and clashed again; their feet stepped to the side, twirled about, then moved once more – it was an awe-inspiring display of the best in Jedi swordsmanship!

Yoda, however, soon had the Count taking retreating steps; although the aged male managed to parry Yoda's every assault, he was fast weakening, his two former battles having drained a substantial amount of his vitality. This flagging became evident when Yoda, knocking the Count's blade aside with a firm shove and leaving him momentarily open, sent Dooku back into his own ship with a brutal Force push! The Count cried out sharply as his back clashed harshly against the metal hull of his vessel, his already sore chest wound tearing further. He then dropped down onto the floor, briefly stunned, feeling a droplet of blood seep from the gash on his torso; he was sure that his back would be significantly bruised now, adding to his day's injuries.

Padmé gasped, taking cover behind the ramp of the craft – one didn't expect to witness Yoda, a most revered Jedi Master, in such a brutal battle. But sometimes there was no alternative but to fight. She glanced to Anakin and Kenobi fleetingly; she was desperate to go over to them, but, in spite of everything, was still unable to get herself to.

Yoda stepped toward Dooku slowly, "Fought well, you have, my old Padawan," he said firmly, his face tinged with the green glow that his sabre emanated. He looked hard at the Count, memories of times past returning to his mind, times of when the Count was but a boy – a reckless Padawan, but a highly skilled and popular one, nonetheless – and the final Jedi he had trained to Knighthood. It was devastating that this was where he found his ultimate Padawan now.

Dooku glared up to his Master of old bitterly, his eyes intense, swallowing hard. His lip twitched once more in resentment, and he quickly swung his sabre up before him in a final, and wasted attempt at knocking Yoda aside. He was almost level with the Jedi Master now that he was sprawled upon the floor – but the diminutive Jedi caught the Count's incoming blade against his own, and locked it down toward the floor. Their blades crackled with friction, and Dooku knew that, even though he could force himself on, now was a good time to retreat.

"The battle is far from over," he hissed menacingly at Yoda, "This is just the beginning!" 

Quickly, he opened his free hand to his side, and drew the sabre hilt from Anakin's lost limb into his grasp. Yoda was caught a little off guard as Dooku leapt to his feet, and, activating the extra sabre, hurled the blue blade toward the foot of a metallic pillar, near Obi-Wan and Anakin. The blue sabre spun like a deadly discus over to the pillar, perfectly aimed, and sliced through the column's base; with a spark of electricity, the column came loose, and began to tilt down toward the two lame Jedi.

As Dooku had expected, Yoda's nobility forced him to abandon his assault and go to his fellow Jedis' aid; putting his green sabre back to his belt, Yoda called upon the power of the Force to seize the tumbling pillar, and stop it from falling onto the two Jedi. 

In the meantime, Dooku rushed round to the back of his ship, returning his curved sword hilt to his belt, and grasped Padmé by the arm, shoving her up the ramp, "Get on board!" he ordered her tersely. Padmé looked to Anakin and Kenobi in terror, unable to get herself to walk up that ramp, desperate to know that they'd be all right, "But –" she cried, stopping in her tracks. The Count gave her a firm shove; "Get on board!!" he yelled angrily, managing to drive her into the craft. A sharp pain panged across his chest as he moved too vigorously; he hissed again, clutching his bleeding torso, but continued to force Padmé on. Once he had her inside, he shoved her into the passenger seat of his vessel, and slammed himself down into the pilot's seat, starting the craft's engines, and bringing up the rear ramp – his injuries could wait; for now, he just had to get away.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, still conscious, looked up at the heavy column as it came hurtling down on top of him; he felt that this surely must be the end; his life had been on-and-off the line too many times this day, and he wasn't confident that his luck would hold out much longer. Yoda, however, concentrated exceptionally hard, commanding the great powers of the Force to hold the pillar in midair; his face tightened in the utmost concentration, the little Jedi using all of his strengths to save his two fellow Jedi from destruction. And Yoda's attempts paid off as, suddenly, the colossal pillar halted in its path, creaking under the strain of the invisible powers that cradled it. Obi glanced to Yoda, watching the Jedi Master's lips tighten as he, with a final thrust of strength, managed to fling the column aside; it came crashing down onto the floor, beyond Kenobi and Anakin, just as the engines of Dooku's craft – an elegant Solar Sailor – hissed into action; Yoda turned to watch as the vessel, carrying the Count and the Senator, shot off up its escape hatch, and burst into the Geonosian skies, leaving the chaos of the hanger battle behind it…

**TBC…**

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**NB:** Thanks to Showcase.netins.net for their AotC script – yes, it was outdated, but it was helpful for including things dropped from the film!


	8. Bitter Convalescence

**Author's Notes: **Sorry the chapter's late, everyone! My excuses are**: a)** school coursework due in by Easter, so in less than _5 weeks_ (_Argh_! Nightmare!) and **b) my getting addicted to reading Dumas' _The Three Musketeers_. The reading spree has lead me on to reading _all_ of Conan Doyle's _Hound of the Baskervilles_, and I've now got my teeth into (excuse the pun) _Dracula_ by Stoker. I just can't stop! ^_^ It should do my imagination some good, though… or not. **

This is very much a talking, getting-over-the-war-and-onto-the-next-thing chapter… and it just kept going! o_0 Again, take it as you will. The next chapter is probably going to be a bit riské… but I've come this far, and I have my BETA reader to consult, so it should go all right. She says.

**Skywalker-Blue**: I'm glad you enjoyed the mêlée – it was a difficult one to write out! And it wasn't a typo – careering is the word I wanted. ^_^ Things are going to be a bit bleak for the next two or three chapters – I'm just hoping, once they're done, I know what to put in-between that and the end! I think I have a conclusion sorted out, but the middle's a bit blank currently! Oh well… I'll see how it goes!

**Alex**: Thankyou very much for reading so far! I'm glad you've enjoyed the ride.

**Darth T-Rex**: Oh, Dooku's dangerous no doubt. ^_^ I just wanted to show it. Thankyou for your comments!

**Merrymoll**: It _is_ only going to get worse (and I mean the scenario, hopefully not my writing! ^_~). And you can't beat an evil Dooku! And he's only gonna get worse…

**Shadow-Angel:** I'll do my best to keep going but, like I've said, finishing stories isn't my greatest skill as a writer! I think of new ideas faster than I can type them! Hope you keep reading!

**Heather Wan**: Am I evil, or is the story evil, or both…? That's alotta evil in your review! ^_^ Just admit it – you've been seduced by the Dark side! LOL

**Ami**: I call it writing, but typing technically is right… but who cares? :) Keep reading…if you dare.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Star Wars_, or any of the characters, scenarios, etc, etc… but I do have a license to my own free will and imagination, and they belong to me alone! Which, incidentally, is probably a very good thing! I probably should have thought about it before sharing them, however…^_^ LOL

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 8**

_'**W**hen he touches me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body; I feel cold inside, and scared…I've never felt like it before. I know that I want to break away from him, but I can't – something stops me! I can't!'_

_'I don't know what's wrong with me…but when I'm around him, I…I can't control myself…'_

_'I can't seem to do what I want to when he's near me…I can't feel what I know I should be feeling…'_

_'I just don't get it, Ani…I can usually remain strong under pressure for so long, but he just got to me so quickly'_

_'Anakin, I'm just so frightened! How does he do it?'_

_'I don't know Padmé…But I'm gonna make him pay if he's hurting you!'_

"I'll make him pay…some day," Anakin murmured as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision gradually focused, and he swallowed, his throat dry and his head pounding. Blinking hard in the dimness, he groaned quietly – wherever he was, it was dark.

"I'll make him pay…?" he asked himself in a hoarse whisper, unsure of who or what he'd been talking about; his memory had gone blank.

He looked around himself cautiously and realised that he was laid back on a bed in the gloom of a small room. There were various pieces of bleeping apparatus stood by his bedside, linked up to parts of his body with wires and thin, transparent conduits, and perched upon a far wall unit was a glass vase, filled with fresh flowers; their scent filled the room with a pleasant aroma, but it only proved an irritant for Anakin's headache. He groaned once more, pushing himself up into a sitting position, before then placing his head into his hands, careful not to pull any of the tubes fastened to him loose.

He abruptly frowned as his fingers touched his face; one hand was warm and soft, but the other was 'hard' and 'cold'. He hesitantly pulled his hands away and looked at them in disbelief; his face contorted in horror, and he shook his head in denial, stammering, "No" over and over again.

It now all began to flood back in vicious flashes – manacled hands, an unfair trial, Geonosian soldiers, Republic troops; a red lightsabre, a dark warrior, a vicious battle…

"No…" he sighed yet again as he looked hard at his right hand, hoping – no _demanding –_ that this was but a delusion! His right arm was completely metallic from the elbow down, his flesh and blood, skin and bones replaced by its aesthetically displeasing form. 

He closed his eyes, flashbacks coming at him fast and fiercely – a lightsabre fizzled, burning through his clothes, scorching his skin…he recalled the pain, the agony, the torment. It came down on his arm, came down, unstoppable, and sliced through his flesh, bone and sinew, cauterising his tissue and instantaneously drying his blood; it was _his_ fault, the warrior's, the man whom he had fought! It was his fault!!

"The bastard!" he cried, his face tensing up with rage as his memory finally clicked back into place, and all the fragments of recollection formed into a coherent whole; he'd battled with Count Dooku, that poor excuse for a former Jedi, that insolent cur who had dared to stand against him, who had dared to touch the woman that was _his_.

The woman…?

Anakin paused, his mind all a flutter – Padmé!! Where was Padmé? What had happened to her? Was she safe? Did she get away?

Footsteps echoed outside his chamber and a light came on in the outer hall; someone had heard his cries.

"I'll kill him," Anakin growled wildly, his eyes darting about the small room in a panic-stricken rage, "I'll tear his head from his neck, I'll pull his insides out, I'll –" 

The door abruptly swung open, and some kind of nurse walked in. And then Anakin realised where he was – the medical base within the Jedi Temple.

"Master Skywalker, you're awake," she said gently, stepping to his bedside, "Please, don't get up…you need your rest." She lightly put a hand onto his shoulder, and urged him to lie back down.

"Padmé! Where's Padmé?" he asked frantically.

"Master Skywalker, please," she insisted, "Rest."

"I need to know! If that bastard has her –"

"Language, Anakin!"

Anakin's eyes darted over to the doorway and beheld Kenobi in its frame; for a moment, the Jedi Knight just held his apprentice's gaze, and tried to silently soothe Anakin's wrath and pain, before he then entered into the dark room and switched on the light above. Ani felt that Obi-Wan looked incredibly weary, his savage wounds now plastered over in bacta bindings, but, regardless, took little heed of his Master's fatigue, and demanded, "Where is she Master? What happened?"

"Master Kenobi, your Padawan needs rest, please! Don't let him excite himself like this," the nurse recommended directly, "His body needs to get accustomed to his new arm, and –"

"Master, tell me about Padmé! I don't care about me!" he ordered again, interrupting the nurse irately, sweat beading his brow as he denied his weary body the rest it needed.

"Anakin, pay heed to the nurse," Kenobi said quietly, taking a careful seat on the end of Anakin's bedside, "You've suffered a horrific injury, and you're not going to be ready for anything – especially a jaunt across the galaxy – any time soon."

Anakin could barely believe the calmness of his Masters' tone, "I need to see Padmé! Where is she, Master?" he continued.

Obi-Wan's blue eyes slowly shifted away, a look of defeat, sadness and sore emptiness in their cobalt depths, "I'm glad to see you're awake," he said, disregarding Anakin's pleas momentarily, "I feared that you'd lapse into a coma, or something…it's amazing that you weren't further affected by shock after taking such a vicious wound."

Anakin remained silent, his Master enfolded with a most poignant melancholy; the aura about Kenobi was strange to him, and it immediately caught his attention, and calmed the raging storm within his head. 

Obi-Wan briefly gestured to the nurse to depart, and she swiftly obeyed, leaving Kenobi and his protégé alone; "I warned you, Anakin," Obi continued as the nurse closed the door behind her, a severe edge to his soft voice, "But you didn't listen. We could have taken him together, but you had to go at it alone…"

"It's too late to tell me this, now, Master," Anakin said sourly.

"I told you plenty before it was 'too late', Anakin, but you paid no heed! See where you're recklessness gets you?"

"I could have taken him," Anakin retorted bitterly, recollections of his fight with the Count flashing through his mind, "He wasn't so great. I injured him, didn't I?"

"And he injured you thrice as seriously back, Anakin," Kenobi reminded the Padawan; he cared deeply for the boy, but he could be so trying to his patience sometimes, and it wasn't helpful; "You're a fine swordsman, Anakin, " he continued, "But you're not the best. And don't ever lose sight of that."

Anakin for the moment stopped, and looked firmly at his tired and disgruntled teacher; the day had been hard on everyone, and they'd all encountered troubles, but Kenobi's words, for some reason, offended him. Was his Master continuing to put him down, and continuing to try and prevent him from reaching his full potential?

_'It's all Obi-Wans' fault! He's jealous! He's holding me back!'_

Anakin felt his frustration toward his mentor resurface: Obi-Wan hadn't even managed to put a scratch on the Count, but he had – he'd cut his arm, and gashed his chest! Some great swordsman the 'infamous' Dooku had turned out to be. Perhaps Obi-Wan was jealous, and wanted to make sure that he wasn't upstaged by his Padawan, so was trying to hinder his confidence in his fighting ability. Anakin's lip curled up moodily, certain that his Master was in the wrong here.

"And as far as Padmé goes," Kenobi went on, immediately catching Anakin's attention, "Well, I'm afraid that she's out of our hands."

"What are you saying?" Anakin asked in horror, "Has that –" He hesitated, struggling to find a word that he felt was fitting to name Dooku. Luckily, Kenobi cut him off before the carnage emerged from his Padawan's lips; "Anakin, please, calm down…" he said soothingly, looking at the boy hard with his gentle, azure eyes; 

"How can I calm down, Master? Are you saying we've just gotta sit here and leave her with that…that –"

"I'll have no more of your foul mouth, Anakin!" Kenobi snapped, anticipating the following utterances that were about to materialize from Ani's lips once more; his weariness had made his patience unusually short, and though he understood his Padawan's anger and impatience, he knew when the boundaries were being pushed a bit too far. 

He sighed, and looked firmly at Anakin with a considerably harsh gaze; "Padmé has signed herself to the Separatists – you know this?" he asked him gently. Anakin swallowed reluctantly, before giving Obi-Wan a gruff nod of acknowledgment. Kenobi lightly nodded in return, before continuing calmly, "Therefore, there is little we can do for her. Dooku, as far as we know, still has her, and is in his rights to have her. She is an ally of his, now, not of us."

This hurt Anakin, and Kenobi could see that it did, as he turned away, unable to control his feelings of hatred and betrayal.

"Please, Anakin, rest," Kenobi finally insisted, feeling that enough had been said for now. He patted his apprentice on the shoulder paternally; "We've all been dealt a blow," he went on, trying to comfort him, "But rushing out blindly and rashly, whilst still wounded, and without having any idea of where you're going, or what you're going to do if you get there, isn't going to help anyone…in the least bit you."

"Then what can I do?" Anakin asked, his tone low, "Padmé's in trouble, I can feel it! He _made_ her join him, Master, he made her! I can't let him get away with that!"

"Do you want to get her back for Republican justice, Anakin, or do you want to get her back for your own desires?" Kenobi asked him seriously, "Think about it…" 

The Jedi gave his apprentice one more friendly tap on the shoulder, before returning shakily to his weary feet and limping out of the room, switching off the above lamp as he left. 

Anakin watched him go, unsure of exactly what his Master had meant, and of how much he knew about he and Padmé's feelings for one-another. After a long pause where he stared into space, he sighed, laying back down, and looked to the ceiling above, alone in the darkness once more. He felt numb and helpless, and was sure that this must be how Padmé was feeling, wherever she was. 

He sighed again, feeling his severed elbow throb a little – his new metallic appendage felt uncomfortable and wrong. Though he wanted to deny his tiredness and his need for respite, he couldn't prevent it from taking a hold of him. His eyes felt heavy with fatigue, and he felt himself drift off into an uneasy sleep…

_'Anakin, I'm just so frightened! How does he do it?'_

_'I don't know Padmé…But I'm gonna make him pay if he's hurting you!'_

_'…I'm gonna make him pay if he's hurting you!_

_'…make him pay…'_

_'**pay**'_

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"**M**y word, sir…the things you've gotten yourself in since going into politics…it's enough to make one's blood curdle…"

"Well don't let your blood curdle; it'll be the end of you…"

Serenn was in no mood to be amused. He stared ahead, his eyes concentrated and wild as the past battle came back to him in unwanted flashes. And he now bore a physical trophy of his shame – wounds across his chest and arm that threatened never to fully heal. How humiliating… And to be given them by a boy, a mere Padawan! Even the fact that this boy could be 'the Chosen One', and therefore extremely talented, was of little consolation to him; he was Dooku, infamous Jedi duellist – never had he been bested by one whose rank didn't surpass Knight!

He hissed suddenly as Bhade dressed his chest wound, slapping a load of bacta onto it before covering it with a large swathe. "That'll scar, sir, unless you get yourself sharply to an exceptional infirmary and have it seen to properly…"

Dooku looked down at the large white swathe across his bare chest; "Let it scar…" he snarled, "It'll just be another to add to my memoirs of disgrace." He slipped off the bench on which he sat, in one of his mansion's many chambers, and picked up his discarded shirt; he wouldn't be wearing that again now that it had fine tears seared across the breast and sleeve.

Bhade nodded obediently and without question, "As you wish, sir" he said, before beginning to pack up his medical kit; Bhade was one of two servants Dooku had at his home on Serenno, both of whom took care of his overly large home. Now mature in years, Bhade had served in the military as a young man, being qualified, amongst many things, in medical care; this came in handy when his master rolled back home covered in brutal cauterisations. Short in stature – and quite literally dwarfed by Serenn – Bhade had a bald head, though his eyebrows ironically remained thick and bristly, and had a considerably stocky figure which had come from his years in service. He was primarily responsible for the upkeep of the huge gardens of the established Dooku family manor, whilst his wife took pride in the catering and housework; it was a time-honoured set-up on a planet that preferred to keep the traditions of the eras of old.

Having been a Jedi for most of his life, living on the urbanised and technologically advanced world of Coruscant, the ways of Serenno had come as something of a culture shock to the Count when he had finally renounced his Jedi code and reclaimed his inheritance. Serenno was a planet still thriving off agriculture, and was sparsely populated; its crime levels were exceedingly low, in fact almost non-existent, and the standard of living was good. Their only exports were their famed spices and various metal ores, neither of which the planet had much interest in itself. Serenno wasn't an Outer Rim planet, in spite of all this; often likened to Alderaan, it was a peaceful place, a 'quiet village' in comparison to its thriving 'city' counterparts. 

Dooku, however, was rarely found residing in his mansion, so he didn't feel the need to try and modernise the old-fashioned ways of his homeland; he had better things to do more than anything else; why should he bother to waste his time? Being the infamous political activist that he was, staying at home all day wasn't an option, and, despite his age, he had absolutely no inclination to be so idle.

"I recommend you take a week's rest, sir," Bhade continued, throwing some bloodied wipes into a nearby bin carefully, before removing the liner so that he could go and safely discard it, "Those wounds are bad by any standards, but for a man your age –"

"You don't have to lecture me, Bhade, I've been around long enough to know how to take care of myself," Dooku snapped, gesticulating angrily with his hand, "And if I choose to ignore your advice, then it is because of my own choice, not stupidity."

"I never asserted that you were stu –"

"Bhade, shut up! I'm in a foul mood, as you can probably muster, and would rather be left to my own thoughts," the Count retorted tersely, loudening his authoritative voice; he dropped his torn shirt onto Bhades' refuse bag, "Dispose of your litter and retire for the night. The hours are fast waning, and I don't wish to keep you up on my account."

"And what of the young lady, sir?"

Dooku paused for a moment's thought before he casually replied, "I'll see to her…"

"As you wish, sir," Bhade replied, stepping away toward the door, and making a fleeting look back to his master; "Good night, sir," he added swiftly, before he hobbled out of the room and closed the door gently behind him, leaving the Count stood motionless, alone in the shadows. 

Dooku inhaled slowly, his chest rising then falling steadily as his eyes scoured the walls of the room, a tiny box, more like a closet than a chamber – his thoughts drifted away from him and he stared into space for some time; the pain of his chest wound was slowly subsiding as the soothing bacta cooled and healed it, but pain did not bother him – pain was power, it gave him strength – it was the mental pain, the mortification of the day that occupied his mind. Yes, for the most part, he'd achieved success, but not completely; he had been wounded by a Padawan – a meagre _boy_! That factor alone stung more than any searing abrasion. His Master would surely rebuke him for such carelessness. On the other hand, the conflicts between the Separatists and Republic had been sparked into activation, and he had the plans for the 'ultimate weapon' safely at hand; plus, he had drawn Senator Amidala effortlessly into his grasp. Perhaps things were not so bad.

He could tell himself that, but it didn't prevent him from feeling uncomfortably petulant. 

He took his own leave of the room, and, taking a right turn, walked quickly down the outer corridor, his boots clanking against the marble floor. Through the large windows, the red light of the waning sun shone, lashing his body with its wild, crimson glow – it was passing twilight outside the mansion. The halls were quiet and still – they always were; it had been centuries since a sizeable family had resided here.

The Count reached the end of the passageway, and entered into a room, swiftly pulling the door open, before slamming it aggressively behind him. He curled up his lip, slinging his arm back and belting the door firmly with his hand, yelling briefly in antagonism as his inner frustration got too much to bear; "A boy… a mere _boy_!" he hissed to himself, glaring lividly into space. He couldn't get Anakin's smug countenance out of his head, and despite the fact that he'd gained an obvious victory over the apprentice Jedi, there was something about young Skywalker that unnerved him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wasn't one to scare easily – it took something dire to unsettle him – and he wasn't even sure if it was fear that he felt, but still…

"A feeble boy…" he growled indistinctly.

Whatever it was, he felt that he had something of a score to settle with this 'boy' now; Anakin would pay for the wounds that had disgraced his pride.

He remained still for a moment, calming himself with deep, steady breaths, before he stood straight from off the door and walked across the dull chamber. The room was dark and sinister, void of virtually any furniture, bar one sheet-covered unit, with the windows hidden behind blackened blinds and a mere tattered rug sprawled out haphazardly upon the floor. Approaching the lone unit, he pulled the sheet from it, and revealed some kind of communication console beneath, a dull metallic grey in colour, with a small projection plate on top, and various switches dotted about it. He swept his hand across it to knock off some dust, shaking his head at the amount of the stuff that had somehow managed to accumulate upon the console, and then proceeded to flick the switches about and input various codes, bringing the mechanism to life. He then stepped back onto another plate, on the floor, (a receptor one this time) and waited.

The main console whirred gently, and bleeped several times, the buttons upon it flashing briefly and the rims of both the plates glowing softly. The Count watched the projector plate earnestly, swallowing, waiting for it to come to life as he stood stark still.

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

Bleep.

_Bleep._

_Cling._

Dooku's back straightened to attention, and both plates actively hummed, the receptor transmitting his image, whilst the projector sent the image of he or she at the other end of the communication to him.

A hologram of a hooded figure – a man – suddenly materialised, projected on top of the console, at about a sixth of its natural size. The figure's head raised slightly, his entire body encompassed in a heavy, ghostly robe, and his visage overshadowed by the protrusion of his hood. His mouth, just visible, was tight and unforgiving, and his voice, as he spoke, was even more unnerving; "Lord Tyranus," he hissed insipidly in greeting, a strange yet unmistakable air of dominance about his frail tone. It was the Sith Master.

Dooku made a short nod, "Master Sidious," he said, his normally vociferous tone dwindling slightly to a reverential level, "The Force is with us. I'm sure you have by now discovered that the conflicts have begun."

"Yes, indeed," Sidious replied, his tone unemotional, his face unmoved, "And the plans, do you have them?"

"Yes, my master. I will bring them to you tomorrow morning."

"'Tomorrow morning'?" Sidious echoed brusquely, his mouth seeming to go taut, "Why not tonight?"

Dooku looked at his Master hard, a slight frustration flashing across his face, "My Master, I would have come to you immediately after the battle, but, as I'm sure you've heard, I've successfully drafted Senator Amidala to my cause, and have her here with me. I cannot afford to abruptly abandon her here and leave for Coruscant – it'll more than likely rouse her suspicions, and I need to maintain what faith she does have in me for the time being."

"Rouse her 'suspicions'?" Sidious repeated slowly, "How can departing in the morn leave her any less suspicious than in the eve?"

"I can leave early, whilst she sleeps, and –"

"You honestly think she'll rest under your roof at all?" Sidious interrupted with an evident scoff, knowing Padmé and her attributes well.

Dooku cam close to rolling his eyes, "Master, please – I know what I'm doing!" he retorted.

Sidious paused for a long and awkward moment, and even though Serenn could not see his Master's face, he could feel his sharp, penetrating eyes upon him. The silence was exceedingly uncomfortable, and Dooku felt the need to shift a little on the spot, transferring his weight from one leg to the other as he uneasily waited for Sidious' response.

Sidious finally made a move, lightly wafting his frail hand toward his protégé, "Fine, Tyranus…have it your way."

Dooku nodded slowly, eyeing his Master hard, "Then I will see you tomorrow, my Lord."

"Yes, tomorrow…" the Sith Master echoed in a menacing tone, his image abruptly fading. The console clicked again, before the plates both deactivated, and the transmission terminated, Sidious' small image fading from view. Dooku's face contorted in further wrath – injuries, unruly Padawans, whining Neimoidians, and then _this…_it was just one of those days.

He deactivated the console, and flung the sheet untidily back over it – he despised being treated as second best. Sidious didn't always treat him with inferiority, but when he did, he loathed it. 

Dooku turned and approached the door, about to walk out of the dismal chamber, but came to a halt as he reached it. He slowly leant upon the door, respiring heavily, his mind filled with an irksome wrath; he knew that he was in more than just a foul mood today, as he could have usually endured Sidious' caustic tongue, or even turned it against him, as he often did when spirits were good. But today…today he had let it cut him to the quick with too much ease. Anything that would usually just irritate him was enraging him due to his volatile state of mind. He needed to calm down.

Taking one final deep breath, he opened the door and left the room with his thoughts.

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**S**omething about the Count's splendid abode reminded Padmé of the palace back on Naboo; it wasn't quite as warm or homely, but it shared the regal edge and old-fashioned décor, with marble pillars adorning the corridors, large windows reaching down the tall walls, and a beautiful garden stretching in all directions around it. If nothing else it was a marvellous place, yet unmistakably lonely.

She was sat in a gigantic sitting room, in a large, cushioned armchair – the chamber's traditional and out-of-date edge was at the same time both haunting and soothing. Before her was a large, stone fireplace, in which some flames crackled gently, and a large rug covered the floor before the hearth. Opposite her was an identical armchair to the one in which she sat – both bottle-green in colour – and beyond them, around the room, were various pieces of old wooden furniture – a desk, a table, and various other units. Above the fireside was a large, imposing portrait of some man; paintings in themselves were rare enough, since long had the holo-picture come in to replace them, but on a planet like Serenno, Padmé guessed that anything considered archaic went. The gentleman in this portrait looked familiar, though he clearly wasn't the Count; she guessed that he was one of his ancestors. His hair was dark, his clothing from a gone era, but his eyes were the most stirring – they were exactly the same as Dooku's: deep, intense and overbearing. Such eyes must be a genetic trait of the family.

Darkness was falling outside, and was creeping into the corners of the chamber now. Padmé looked about herself warily, the silence only penetrated by the gentle crackling of the fire, and the room only illuminated by its ruby glow. It sent flickering shadows dancing across the walls, which were most unnerving, especially when you were in the home of someone you weren't particularly comfortable with. She ceased looking about her, and curled up in her chair, her body weary, and her spirits low. She didn't know where the Count had gone – 'Take a seat. I'll be back soon' was all he'd said. She presumed he'd gone to get those ghastly wounds seen to.

She yawned, feeling tired, but not too inclined to sleep; she'd never liked slumbering in strange places anyway, but this topped them all off. 

The journey from Geonosis to Serenno had been quite a long one, though she expected that her personal unease and despair had prolonged the journey in her mind. She'd felt more than claustrophobic sat in the tiny cockpit with the less than ecstatic Count, who had seemed to be in an invariably abominable mood throughout – though she could hardly blame him for not feeling some rage or distress as far as his horrid wounds went. Didn't he deserve them, though? 

She didn't know what to feel at the moment. She was horrified by what she knew the Count was capable of – that lightning had been terrifying – and she longed to know how Anakin was. Dooku had been certain that Skywalker lived, and she didn't doubt him; if Anakin had have been killed – may the Force forbid it – then she would undoubtedly have not heard the end of it from the former Jedi.

She swallowed, holding herself tighter – her mind was imprinted with the sight of Anakin when he'd lost his arm. She felt so bad, having just stood idly and helplessly by, not doing a thing to help him when he'd needed help most. The moment continued to replay itself over and over in her mind, his awful cry echoing through her head, constantly jabbing at her conscience, jeering at her and telling her that it had been her fault. She felt tears within, but forced herself not to show them; she couldn't afford to lose strength now. She knew that it hadn't been her fault – her inactivity had been Dooku's doing – and yet even knowing that didn't alleviate the potent feeling of guilt and shame that throbbed violently within her.

She suddenly became aware of the loud clanking of boots in the corridors without, entering into the chamber, and closing in behind her. She looked to her side edgily, though she didn't move her body; the entire room, though glowing dimly from the fire, suddenly lost its warm edge, and might as well have been dark. It was from the impetus of a sudden chill throughout her body that she knew the Count had returned.

He finally came into her view, calmly pacing by and taking a seat opposite her; his eyes were held steadily upon her, his facial expression somewhat grim. Padmé thought that he looked weary and aggravated, but couldn't read further into his emotions – he wasn't of that kind of 'transparent' nature. The wounds he had sustained were thankfully now hidden beneath a slack, pale-blue shirt, replacing his ruined black one – if anything, the colour of the garment seemed out of place for a man of such a dark nature. She stared at him warily.

He continued to hold her eyes, waiting her out, and relaxed back in his seat, his hands laid across the arms in a cavalier manner. Padmé didn't like his 'unruffled' state of mind; as much as she wished to deny it, it was unsettling. She tried to hold her own against him, and attempted to play him at his own game, staring straight back into his gaze as he looked upon her.

The fire crackled and spluttered in the silence between them, the atmosphere tense.

It took but a few more minutes before Padmé gave up the little game, blinking and turning away with an ill-tempered sigh. The Count just grinned calmly, and continued to carefully monitor her; he recognised the young Senator's fatigue and inner distress, every miserable event of the day having accumulated into a heavy weight on her mind, a weight that even she was finding hard to cope with; he'd found her weakness through this kind of weight earlier, and he knew he could find it effortlessly again.

"Are you tired, milady?" he asked her gently, his voice low and rasping, "Exhaustion will do you no good."

Her eyes suddenly became fiery and sharp; "Are you expecting me to rest here?" she asked him incredulously, her disposition dancing on the line between antagonism and trepidation.

Dooku was encouraged by her heated response, "You can't deny your body rest, milady. Denying it will lead to delirium."

"Thankyou for your advice, 'doctor', but I can take care of myself," she scorned, her distress seeming to empower her. Despair and sorrow did strange things to people.

Dooku recognised how Padmé's words almost echoed his own from his recent encounter with Bhade, and it captivated him. He smiled with mild amusement, keeping his cool, "Calm down, milady. I'm only trying to be reasonable."

She just scowled silently at him, resolving to say nothing at all – it was sometimes best when your opponent was a master of words. She turned away, exhaling loudly, and watched the flames flicker on the hearth.

Serenn studied her face carefully as the yellow light of the fire illuminated it angelically, trying to see into her mind. All he could get from her at current were pictures of that blasted Padawan, Anakin; she obviously loved him deeply. He scoffed lightly to himself – how could such an iron-willed Senator fall for such a reckless boy? It seemed so unlike her, or at least unlike what her reputation suggested.

"I'm intrigued," he smoothly said, placing his fingertips together before him, "How exactly were you and your 'Padawan lover' planning on exposing your relationship to the public eye? It wasn't something you could hide forever."

Padmé turned to look at him brusquely, an expression of hurt upon her visage regarding what she felt was an intrusion on his part; she tried her best to hold her resolve. Dooku saw he was getting a firm reaction and continued, "I know as well as any that love of the kind you two were feeling for one-another is forbidden on the part of a Jedi."

"Does it matter?" she shot back, feeling the need to cut his words short, "It doesn't look likely that I'll ever see him again."

The Count leant forward slightly, "I want to know," he asked her in a low voice, the look of grim amusement resurfacing on his countenance, "You're an intelligent young woman; how did you plan on safeguarding this one? The Senate's bureaucrats – hypocrites though they are – would immediately take it as a scandal, and it'd be just the tittle-tattle your enemies, like our _venerable_" (he said that with undeniable sarcasm which, had the moment not been so uneasily uptight, Padmé may have applauded) "Viceroy Gunray, would love to get hold of to bring you down. I know as well as you the dangers of being a figure in the public domain. Nothing is sacred."

Padmé shook her head a little, "And you consider an innocent relationship more scandalous than an elderly Count pulling me into his arms and kissing me?" she rejoined.

Dooku wasn't at all discouraged by her efforts; "You should be flattered," he chortled impassively, "Besides, I don't believe it was quite so one-sided…"

Padmé watched his lips rise into a knowing grin, and she could see that he was again toying with her, so she once more neglected to answer him back – it'd only be fanning the flames. She looked down, feeling quite forlorn, and remained silent; why had she left Anakin? Why had she joined this 'man' and his movement? Would things have really been so bad if she'd remained with her friends, and possibly gone to her death in the arena back on Geonosis? Or, if she had survived that, would she have found disaster in the Republic Senate back on Coruscant? 

Another sigh passed her lips.

Dooku carefully studied Padmé's visage through the following lull, before he then resolved to go on, "I'll repeat myself: Are you tired, milady?" he asked, his tone more cogent.

Padmé swallowed, looking blankly into the fire – was this a baited question? Abruptly, before she had time to think that over, her blood began to pound in her ears, and an abnormal pressure began to gather within her earlobes. She cringed, grasping her head as the pressure became painful. She heard her own heart pelting in her head, whilst sounds from outside become blurred and echoic. An icy flush then tore through her circulatory system. She flung her line of sight toward the motionless Count, and saw his hard eyes fixed upon her; he was commanding the Force about her and manipulating her to his cruel will. She felt confined and trapped, and the sensation of helplessness re-awoke in her mind…

_/I asked if you were tired, milady…do you purposely not answer me?/_

Her eyes widened as she heard his voice within her head – this was getting too frightening for her liking.

Dooku monitored her writhing form and her contorting visage, amplifying the amount of pressure on her head until he was certain that she could take no more. As she doubled over, clutching her cranium, and groaned in agony, the Count released her. He then just sat there and waited – he didn't feel the need to say anything; his stunt had said it all.

Padmé felt incredibly dizzy once she was released, the agonising pressure that had pelted around her mind mercifully flushing away from her aching head. She breathed quickly, her heart feeling likely to explode into her throat, and looked down at the floor, keeping a light hold of her head with her hands. She was scared, truly scared now; yes, she had tried to play the Count at his own game several times, but when it came to him playing his combined Force abilities and iron will against her 'mortal' mind, there was no contest. She'd never felt so alone, never felt so isolated, and never felt liable to such defeat as this…

Dooku rose from his seat, and pulled her to her feet, looking upon her with his consistent bleakness; "Tomorrow we both start afresh, yes?" he asked her dryly. Padmé didn't trust his voice, nor his tone – she just didn't trust him, full stop! – but she felt her body only want to adhere to him, her limbs all floppy from his pressure-laden assault, and her mind drained and pounding. She couldn't deny quite how tired she was, or quite how lost. There was nothing she could do to escape him – he held her in his powerful control, and she didn't have the skills to break free.

Oh, how she just wanted Anakin…

**TBC…**

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Link to my **_Eclipse_**page on my website – copy-'n'-paste into your browser if you're interested:

**imperial-palace.tripod.com/eclipse/**


	9. Nemesis

**Author's Notes: **Uh-oh…doomsday! OK, here's the deal: I had enough trouble in the first place getting myself to _publish_ this story, never mind publish the likes of _this_ chapter! It's mostly down to your imagination on how intense, or disturbing, or whatever, you find this instalment, because, frankly, if you were dull and unimaginative enough, you could probably argue that nothing happens. It all depends on personal interpretation. I'm not going to say anymore about the story, but to 'dilute' this chapter, I decided to leave it a while, and get the next chapter published with it. Try and 'enjoy' it – I did write over five drafts all in all, and spent a long time trying to make it work. And (it's a sin to mention) I find it strangely 'Draculean'.****

And also, I've taken the risk of leaving this as a 'PG-13' – I thought about raising the rating to an 'R', but I considered the content and, although many of the themes in this story are more mature and considerably adult, I thought about what "James Bond" gets away with in his films, rated at '12' (PG-13' in the US), and have refused to budge the classification. If you are 13 years old, or around that age, I hope you're fairly mature – I think most 13 year olds are, and just aren't given credit for it. Anyway, I'm shutting up now…if anyone's incredibly offended by my keeping this a 'PG-13' once they've read it, tell me in your review, and I'll up it to an 'R' – but I don't think it's that graphic or ought, to be honest. Read at your own peril. It's the ultimate in 'twisted-ness' – (a very scared) **Jurious**

**NB #1:** '_Nemesis'_ (chapter title) means 'inevitable retribution', BTW. It's _almost_ a clue, so just think about it as you read. And if anyone wants to read a lil about _Eclipse_, go to my FF.Net profile and click on my **Homepage**. Once there (make sure you're at _Imperial Palace_) go to the **Fanfic** section, and take a gander under '_Eclipse'_. There's no a lot there, but enough.

**Skywalker-Blue**: Here's more! I'm sure you'll have summit to say here…dark it is, indeed. o_0 I'm a bit scared about this one. I took a lot of care with it, though!

**Heather Wan**: Thankies! ^_^ I'm sure Ani has something in store – we all know he's not one to be idle!

**Shadow Angel**: Glad you like! I'm guessing you're a bit of a Darksider, too, with that name!

**Disclaimer**: Thank God I don't own anything! ^_^ LOL

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 9**

**T**here was a silence between Dooku and Padmé as the Count guided the Senator through the dark, empty halls of his mansion. It was night time, and the corridors were eerily lit by a piercing crystal moonlight, which beamed intensely through the large windows; it highlighted the marble pillars and pale, stonewalls with a sinister beauty, giving the hallways a cold and frosty edge.

Padmé sighed quietly, her eyes darting around her nervously, as though she expected a sudden ambush by some entity from behind the pillars or from out of a side door. Her footsteps pattered against the solid floor, drowned out by the heavy tread of the Count's feet; he didn't have physical hold of her, but she felt a subconscious fetter between them, a sensation within her, drawing her to him and encouraging her to follow wherever he paced; his consistent control over her had risen and fallen in its strength since their first ominous meeting on Geonosis, but he had made sure never to dispose of it completely. She didn't understand what he was getting out of it all, and wished he'd have the decency to let her go. She felt almost as though she had become a spectator to her own body, 'watching' it do things she did not wish to do, having not the capacity to defy the Count's supernatural control.

They ascended a stairway, a wide, open one, which had the most beautifully carved banisters; their splendour seemed to speak silently of a rich and cultural past. Padmé frowned as they reached the top of it, endeavouring to imagine what kind of people had once lived here in this incredible residence, trying to put men, women and children of an older era into the varied chambers and passageways. She continued to follow Serenn whilst she contemplated, the Count turning and walking on across the upper storey, guiding her down a more enclosed corridor; this one was lined with antiquated paintings, similar to the one that hung above the fireside in the capacious parlour from which she had just departed. Looking up at them, Padmé saw women and men of old, with sternly set visages, staring austerely upon her. Many of them had the eyes she knew too well, those hard-set, unforgiving orbs alike the Count's, that seemed to pile a pressurising weight upon her head.

Noticing out of the corner of his eyes the interest that Amidala applied to the images, Dooku suddenly asked, "You admire the portraits, or the people within them?" Padmé jumped at the sound of his voice as it resonated through the vacant, labyrinthine halls, bringing her attention back to her subjugator. He went on, seeing her hesitate to speak to him, "My ancestors…I'm sure you can tell." He nodded toward the pictures, opening his hand to a few as he past them, "Not that I knew any of them. I didn't even know my own parents!" He laughed half-heartedly, making light of the matter to cover his acrimony, smirking emptily as he spoke.

Padmé looked to his visage as he said this, half shocked that he had never had any parental influence; she was unable to imagine never knowing her own devoted parents, and the very thought of not knowing them or ever seeing them made her melancholic. He had, however, been a Jedi – all Jedi were taken from their parents when young. It was a brutal, but apparently obligatory practice.

"This immense mansion has housed the line of the Dookus for centuries," he continued, staring ahead down the yawning corridor; the halls had become significantly darker as they now entered into the heart of the building, where there were no windows opening onto the outside; "It would have, in those times past, housed generations of my kin, the Count and Countess and their progeny, plus several branches of siblings, grandparents, and whoever else they may have wished to have housed here…but, alas, no more."

He stopped in his tracks, and, folding his arms over his torso, looked firmly upon her, "Now only _I_ remain. And, being without issue – in the right sense – I am the last of this ancient line, and the name will die with me." 

Padmé sensed a certain bitter indifference in his voice, as though he was uncaring for his past, a past that had presumably not cared for him. She felt a natural chill from the draughtiness of the bare halls brush her, and she rubbed her arms in an attempt to gain some warmth whilst she warily studied Dooku's face in the gloom.

"And it was the Jedi who made sure of that when they took me into the confines of their Order," he added sourly, staring at her for a while; "The way of life of a Jedi is not one that you are accustomed to, now, is it? And I'm sure you can see why, in many ways, I feel that my life has been wasted by such an Order; I sacrificed too many years for their petty causes, and all for them to ultimately fail me."

Padmé didn't like the odium within his tone, and she turned around to escape his turbulent eyes, and looked at the people in the portraits about her; they were all so lifelike in their appearance, obviously painted by the most skilled hand in that old-fashioned art, and although their gazes were not real, she felt pressurised by them. They all seemed to stare critically upon her, passing their own silent judgements over her, and whispering words of contempt to one another; she couldn't escape an intimidating, unwelcoming pair of eyes wherever she turned in this dark corridor!

Suddenly, Padmé felt that horrible, claustrophobic sensation ignite within her once more, and the walls around her seemed to begin to spin; whispers materialised in her head, and eyes followed her everywhere. She breathed fast, looking around for some kind of respite, her nerve slipping.

She jumped as, abruptly, the Count grabbed her from behind and held her still, pulling her tightly backwards into his chest; he let a moment's silence pass to give Padmé time to calm down, whilst he allowed himself a moment to cringe as his chest wound stung where the Senator's body had struck it. He then lowered his head to her ear, and said, "They can't hurt you."

She swallowed, giving the portrait of a man in front of her a determined stare; "I know," she replied bluntly in a low voice. What was wrong with her?

Dooku resumed his recent practice of rubbing her shoulders, before he said, "Fatigue leads to delusion," tightening his already rigid hold on her, "Didn't I warn you?"

She swallowed, looking down – she was beginning to lose faith in her own mind now, feeling unable to trust herself, and this scared her. But then she thought back to what had happened so far today, and all that had transpired at Dooku's malicious hands; was he manipulating her to think that she couldn't trust herself? Or was she really delusional and tired, and just in want of rest? She just didn't know…

"I admit, they are frightening folk," the Count went on somewhat light-heartedly, "But no one in this hallway can hurt you, or even touch you." His hands suddenly tightened further, and she winced a little at the severity of his grip; "No one except me," he added threateningly.

At least that wasn't a lie; but it didn't comfort her at all.

He snickered gently under his breath, and drew his head back, sliding his hands off her shoulders, "Shall we find you a room?" he asked her, though his question was more rhetoric than open. He wheeled about before her, and opened his arm down the darkened hallway, continuing to lead her down the shadowy passage. The paintings continued to line the hall, the whites of the people's eyes seeming to stand out more than anything, continuing to haunt her.

Finally, after another awkwardly silent leg of the journey, they reached a stop, and the Count grasped her arm firmly, sending shards of ice into her skin as he touched her. She shuddered in response to such frigidity, her teeth chattering together – there was something ill-omened about his chilly touch this time, something which she couldn't help but feel uneasy about. She suddenly felt worryingly nauseous.

He led her to a door off to the left, one of many that lined the hall at odd intervals, and pushed it open, leading her into the chamber beyond. She stepped ahead of him, and looked about the room, immediately knowing that something wasn't right – she felt 'cold', but, moreover, she felt that something was amiss, or even 'wrong'. 

'Wrong'? Was 'wrong' even the right word? 

She looked back at the Count tensely. He just leant in the doorframe casually, staring at her, "Will this do you?" he asked her, giving a slight wave toward the inner sanctum.

She turned back to the chamber, having paid little heed to it at all yet, and glanced around it; she was in a glorious bedroom, furnished, like the rest of the manor, to the highest quality in that old-fashioned décor. At the far end of the room was a large set of windows, the central one serving as a door, that led out onto a small balcony overlooking the estate. A thin set of ghostly white curtains covered these, and gave the room a slightly unsettling edge. Along the left wall, at the far end, was a small door, leading to what Padmé guessed was an _en suite_, and closer to her were several units, including a luxurious bureau, which somehow gave her the impression that this had once been a lady's room. Along the right wall was an opulent-looking bed, upholstered in pale blue, with small units flanking either side of its head. There were several old tapestries hung on the walls, too, giving the chamber a strikingly historic feel, and adding slight warmth to it.

Padmé swallowed, her stomach fluttering with apprehension as another unwelcome chill traversed her body – she hadn't been comfortable since signing that treaty, but she'd never felt more helpless than now, alone in a strange land, with a terrifyingly disingenuous man; there was something about this room she _really_ didn't like.

Dooku's gaze hardened on the vulnerable senator, and he studied her despondent form carefully, noticing the weakness of her posture, and the disquiet of her air; she was a changed person. So far, they had both played something of a 'game', each trying to manipulate the other to their own ends. He'd started it, he wouldn't deny that, when he'd pulled her into his grasp on Geonosis, manipulating her slowly into his embrace and urging her to join his cause; she'd tried a comeback in the corridor up to the arena, and he'd let her get away with it. The fact was, by definition, this wasn't really a fair game – he'd been in control all along. He'd let her influence him in the Geonosian corridor, as she'd pitifully pleaded for one last chance to see her friends alive – and he'd enjoyed watching her struggle, pushing herself to try and overcome him by playing his own cards against him. Only he could play this game, and he was certain that, deep down, the helpless senator knew it. He possessed one overriding factor that she didn't have – a powerful control of the Force, and that automatically meant victory on his part. 'Fair play' never came into the equation.

He stepped silently into the room, and leant back on the door, pushing it to a soundless close, and continued to watch Padmé flit about the chamber nervously; he broodingly played about with the door handle behind him, rubbing it over with his hand, his eyes deep and intense; a playful grin gradually rose on his saturnine countenance, a fire, not gentle but passionate, or even fierce, kindling in the hollows of his fathomless pupils. 

When Padmé finally decided to turn back, and set her eyes upon the Count again, she felt an immense shudder plunge down her spine, her stomach somersaulting with an undeniable apprehension; the room seemed to have filled with a hostile air, and the dark hold of the Separatist leader indelicately reinstated itself over her. Her skin prickled and her heart raced; she wanted to run and hide, but she couldn't…she was caught with the nexu in his den. Inhaling a panicky breath, she swung her head back away from him and focused her line of sight on the icy glow of the moonlight that shone hazily onto the floor; she was trying to distract herself from her unwelcome sensations, and trying to ignore Serenn, vainly hoping he would just go away. Perhaps he was merely waiting to see if she would settle? 

Padmé knew that her thoughts were being falsely optimistic, but she could still cling onto hope; pacing carefully across the carpet, she sat herself down on the edge of the bed, and dropped her head dejectedly into her hands. Shutting herself from the world around her, she suddenly realised how torn she felt inside; Anakin was alive, she was certain, but so far away. And look at how she'd betrayed him! Why had she joined the Separatists? Why? Regret flooded her mind, and thoughts of 'what if_?_' took their hold, each one condescendingly promising that, had she taken their route, things would be better now. She just wanted everything to be okay; she wanted the blissful peace of the meadow on Naboo to come back to her; she wanted to go back to that innocent picnic that she'd shared with her true love.

Serenn's face tightened as he impolitely began to draw Padmé's feelings into his head – her mind was inundated with thoughts of Anakin once more. He remained stationary for the moment, picking up on her memoirs of the idealistic meadow picnic that she'd shared with that brat, and the joy and ease that she had felt at being in such bliss with him alone. The Count was intrigued as he watched her reminiscences through his mind's eye like some sort of slideshow, seeing her laughter when Anakin played about on the Shaaks, her embarrassment at discussing past loves with him, her fondness of the fresh air and glorious Nubian surroundings…he could see that she would like nothing better than to go back to that innocent, glorious moment now. But reality was a harsh thing, and she very well knew that she couldn't go back to it; her beloved 'Ani' was both lost and injured, on the other side of the conflicts and of the galaxy, whilst she was trapped with him, the infamous Dooku, in his own home, on his own planet. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Slowly, Dooku permitted a deep grin to etch into his face – how delicious was this? What sweeter revenge had he on that unruly Padawan, Skywalker, than having the woman the crazed apprentice deemed as his own trapped in his clutches? His thoughts halted, and he dropped his link to Padmé's mind for a moment; "What sweeter revenge…?" he murmured to himself discreetly, subconsciously rubbing the door handle even harder behind him whilst he continued to monitor Padmé's disconsolate posture, feeling the extreme gravity of her dispirited emotions and the profundity of her distress through his heightened senses; the disheartening events that had transpired today were coming back to haunt her, and pushing her to the edge – she was about to break, everything too much for her to cope with. And that meant that she was as good as his.

"I trust this chamber suits you?" he asked her, his voice shattering the fragile and deadly silence.

She jumped, looking across to him, her long hair loosely hanging by the sides of her forlorn face, "I'm sorry?" she asked, not hearing what he had said, so deep had she been in her reflections.

He began to pace lightly toward her; "The room," he said, gesturing about him with his hand, a frightening smirk impressed on his face, "Is it adequate for you, my lady?" He stopped short of her and made a bow that Padmé took as completely mocking. She was in no frame of mind to snap at him, however, feeling utterly empty within; "Yes, thank you," she nodded coyly, her voice quiet and timid, echoing her atypical state of mind.

Dooku grinned complacently, nodding in acknowledgment to her; Padmé watched him stand there, it seeming evident to her that he had no intention of leaving. Swallowing once more, she lowered her head back into her hands as tears threatened to break loose from her anxious eyes; she felt increasingly queasy, sure her nerves were playing her up. _'Go away, please go away…'_ was all she could think to herself, over and over again, _'Please go away…'_

"Go away?" Dooku asked aloud, abusing his powers and insolently reading her cowed thoughts, "My, how rude of you. Am I so offensive a character?"

Padmé looked up at him in shock – what was she supposed to do when even her thoughts weren't sacred?

The Count smiled widely, his teeth tightly knitted together, "Forgive me, my dear, I have no intention of intimidating you," he went on, "Please, don't let yourself be troubled on my account." He walked right up to her and knelt before her upon one knee, looking hard into her eyes. Her breath jarred in her throat as his stare seemed to seize her – it made her feel even more cold and fearful.

"You're most traumatised," he noted, placing an outwardly affectionate hand onto her shoulder, his voice mesmerising and hypnotic, "Please, feel free to sleep it off. You need your rest, after all."

"I've told you already," she said quietly, her voice coming out in jumpy starts, "You can't expect me to sleep here."

The Count's grip tightened, and she watched him nervously as he replied in a subdued tone, "Perhaps I can _help_ you sleep…" It wasn't a question; it was more a statement. She inhaled sharply, some 'force' compelling her to keep her eyes on him as a cold sweat broke forth on her forehead. Her rate of breathing became increasingly faster, and the control he held over her continued to present nothing but torment to her oppressed mind; she was utterly terrified, and had again become the helpless spectator to her body. She did, however, manage to rejoin diffidently, "No, you couldn't."

Dooku scoffed under his breath, apparently mildly amused by her answer. Removing his hands, he suddenly leant onto the edge of the bed upon his elbow, by her right side, his posture frighteningly informal, and he looked up to her, bluntly asking, "You feel guilty, don't you?" She just frowned in response, unable to follow his train of thought.

"About Anakin and company, I mean," he added. 

Padmé continued to look at him with slight disorientation, realising to some extent that he had again penetrated her thoughts; she did feel guilty – how couldn't she?

"You shouldn't feel guilty for what you've done today," he continued, his voice low, his gaze intense, "I mean, who is more at fault? You, who have the fortitude to turn for the good of the galaxy's future, or your Jedi friends, who continue to blindly serve Darth Sidious, the Sith Master?"

Padmé looked upon him uncertainly; if she accepted his words, they would be a relieving salvation for her fraught mind, but part of her still made her too wary of whatever he uttered to accept what he said. She felt so burdened; she just wanted Anakin, and for him to hold her in his arms.

Dooku sensed this, and resolved to turn this to his advantage; he leant closer to her, making sure her eyes stayed on him, and whispered; "Let go, Padmé. Let yourself go. Don't lock yourself up."

She breathed out ruggedly in a rising panic; anxiety fizzed in her blood and trembled in her stomach. She could feel his dark, invisible powers taking yet a firmer hold of her, numbing her free will, and she knew without a doubt that she was helplessly trapped.

Dooku watched Padmé quake, and looked into her wide, misty eyes, recognising the considerable qualms that she felt towards him; "What's wrong?" he asked her mockingly, "We're not frightened of the old Count, are we?"

Padmé inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself and control the rapid feeling of terror that thundered within her. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she inhaled sharply and clutched the duvet below her in an attempt to maintain some form of composure. Whatever she tried, though, she just couldn't escape her unrelenting trepidation.

Dooku leant nearer to her; "We were brave enough to stoke my chest and peck my cheek earlier, weren't we?" he asked her quietly, with a triumphant edge to his tone, reminding her of what she had previously done, back on Geonosis. Padmé's eyes opened slowly, and she looked back at him in horror, silently denying the candour of her earlier actions; Dooku, of course, was well aware of the motives behind her behaviour in the Geonosian corridor, knowing that her friendliness had been false; but he wittingly disregarded that. Making an expression of feigned realisation, he leant even closer to her; "Oh, wait, were you only _acting_…?" he snickered callously, watching Padmé swallow in further fear, and shake her head in alarm, before he added, "Forgive me if I pretend that you _weren't_."

The Count could almost hear the pelting of her fretful heart as her body tightened in tension. He pushed off his elbow, and rose up to sit by her side; she was unable to break away from his dark hold, and she was struggling within, striving to break free; all this was making her suffer, and the Count took an undeniable pleasure from it. Scoffing again grimly, he put his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek gently with his thumb, feeling her continue to shake beneath his intoxicating touch, his intangible powers cradling her with ease.

Padmé swallowed with some difficulty, feeling her clothes damp with a confounded cold sweat; she forced herself to show strength enough to look upon Serenn, and turned to him, feeling the fervent power beneath his hand on her face. A magnetism framed her eyes once more upon his visage, and she was therefore forced to stare at him, monitoring how his chiselled facial features stood out starkly in the dim light, and noticing how his eyes seemed more zealous than ever. She opened her mouth to speak and, after several failed attempts that came out like nervous gasps for air, she finally managed to utter, "P-P-Please…" though her fright and nerves made her following words fail to emerge. She was trying to tell him to stop, but she failed miserably.

The Count dropped his hand from her face back to his side, and brought his head closer to hers; " 'Please'?" he queried derisively, lightly brushing his nose against hers and exhaling slowly over her countenance, " 'Please' what…?" He looked at her hard, a playful, wicked grin flashing across his face.

Padmé inhaled unsteadily, unable to get herself to respond, her voice dead, and her self-control eclipsed; she felt a tear roll down her face in distress, and her body tremor in terror. Dooku was stationary, and merely responded to her silence with another proud grin, watching her continue to shiver in response to his conduct. 

Padmé just didn't understand how he was doing this manipulative act; she knew, underneath, that she wanted desperately to pull away and run, but she couldn't, even though she feared him so much.

Continuing to smile, Serenn raised his hands to either of her shoulders, before he began to rub them again; "Cry it out, Padmé," he purred, breathing down her neck, "Let go." 

Padmé felt his dominance over her further strengthen, and she felt two conflicting emotions burst forth within her, one telling her not to break, the other wanting her to; his voice was just so trusting, so comforting, and part of her longed to cry out her day's troubles and concerns upon him. Her lip trembled and she felt a tear escape her as he successfully began to get to her.

"You're only human, my dear," he reminded her with a reassuring, although false, support, "You're only human."

And then she broke; tears began seeping uncontrollably down her face as all of the day's woes and losses hit her. Serenn took one of his hands from her shoulders, and slowly stroked her flowing hair down her back, listening to her distraught sobs; "Good girl," he whispered into her ear, drawing her onto his chest, "Let yourself go. Let all your troubles out on me."

The sudden contrast in his nature seemed incredulous, but Padmé felt herself fall helplessly into the mesmerising lull of his deep voice. She knew she shouldn't trust him; infact, she knew she couldn't, but she was defenceless, and completely vulnerable to his advances.

"That's my girl," he murmured soothingly, gently planting a kiss on the top of her head. 

His touch was no longer cold – it was heated and somewhat ardent, although Padmé could still feel the presence of his invisible control over her. Her tears rolled onto his chest, dampening the loose material of his shirt. He looked down upon her victoriously; "Take all the comfort you want from me," he whispered, grinning wickedly in the dark, watching her continue to comply with his wishes; she was so vulnerable, and had fallen effortlessly into his grasp. He held her to him with one hand, and glided the other over her eyes, lightly placing his fingers over her eyelids, drawing them closed. Continuing to cry out her afflictions, she adhered to his implorations, and drew her eyes shut.

"Let go," he whispered once more, repeating it like some incantation, laying her gently back on the mattress and stroking her hair again, before lightly kissing her forehead, "Give yourself to me." Padmé was lost in the void Serenn had created, trapped in a subconscious-ness where everything seemed right.

"Let it all out," he purred once more to her.

Padmé heard his voice – it reverberated in the darkness of her mind, ringing around her hauntingly. 

A short period of darkness elapsed as the words of the Separatist gradually faded to oblivion, and it was some time before Padmé felt the need to open her eyes once more. Groaning a little, she slowly drew her eyelids open, and blinked as a sudden influx of light cascaded upon her retinas, startling her completely. She squinted in the brightness, and waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the intensity of the radiance; once they had, she realised that the sun was shining brilliantly overhead; the birds were chirping, and the gentle patter of far-off waterfalls, accompanied by the lowing of Shaaks, could be heard in the distance. 

Peculiarly, all of the sounds came to her in echoes, slurred and unclear, but she didn't seem to take much notice of this – she was caught too much off guard to care! She frowned to herself with the utmost perplexity – what was this? What was going on? Had she just been experiencing a horrid dream?

Turning to her side, Padmé glanced about her; the surroundings all certainly looked real. She was laid back in the grass, the blue sky gleaming overhead as clear as crystal, and, to her right, sat Anakin, looking down upon her with a gentle smile; it was as if she'd never left the meadow and their pleasant picnic!

The wind gently blew over her, making her hair sway a little, and the light folds of her glorious, yellow frock fluttered; "Anakin?" she queried uncertainly, her voice seeming to echo a little about her. She looked at him with disbelief, but almost with elation – was she free? Had it all been a nightmare? 

Anakin continued to smile back at her, nodding slowly in response – not slow on purpose, but slow as if time was not flowing at the normal rate. He approached her unhurriedly, crawling over on his knees, and lay by her side, looking upon her with his boyish charm. His Padawan braid bobbed next to his head, and he raised his hand, stroking her forehead warmly.

"I don't understand," Padmé admitted as she felt Anakin's hand caress her brow; everything seemed so dreamlike.

"_Relax_," Anakin smiled, his voice again eerily resonating, "_Everything's _–

~~

 –going to be all right." 

Serenn looked down at Padmé through the darkness, a smirk of further accomplishment on his face as he lay by her side; he continued to stroke her forehead, running his fingers tenderly over her brow. Padmé was looking at him, but she didn't see him – not as he was. It was then that he realised how beautiful she was, and how innocent and pure; why had she decided to take the rough road of politics? It had certainly never appealed to him until he felt that he could actually achieve something through it, but it almost seemed cruelty to draft such young people into its web of lies and deceit. What a waste of life – it would squander hers as much as the Jedi regime had wasted his.

It had been her choice, though; no one but her was accountable for it, unlike he, who'd had no choice in his vocation.

Padmé looked up at…

~~

…Anakin thankfully, "I'm glad," she smiled faintly, raising her hand and running it through the spikes of the Padawan's hair, "I was afraid for you, and –" She felt weepy again, and inhaled hard, trying to contain her tears, biting her lip, before continuing tearfully, "I feared–

~~

–the worst."

Serenn grinned as Padmé ran her hand through the fine strands of his colourless hair, and he brought his own hand round from her temple down to her cheek, and rubbed it affectionately, "It's all right," he soothingly purred, "Let out –

~~

_–all your woes on me_."

Padmé drew her hand from Anakin's hair, and went on to stroke his cheek tenderly; the words he had uttered seemed uncomfortably familiar to her, but she didn't see any reason to doubt him or mistrust her environment; everything was so perfect.

"I'm sorry, Ani," she said sadly. She paused, glancing away from him briefly as profound guilt began flooding her eyes with more sorrow, "Please forgive me for what I've done, please –"

Anakin softly put his hand to her lips, silencing her; "_Shh_," he insisted smoothly, calming her with his collected aura, "_It doesn't matter now. It's all in the past. Don't let it bother you any longer_." Padmé looked at Anakin, his blue eyes glowing kindly at her, and she willingly silenced. Seeing her quieten, Ani gradually removed his hand from her lips, and drew it down her chin and neck, stroking over her fine skin with his smooth hand, and washing her with affection and consolation. Padmé gave him a returning smile, thankful for the support he was showing her, and for the firm understanding between them.

Anakin then slowly lowered his head to hers once more and looked at her supportively, "_Let go_," he said, leaning over her, his braid hanging down over her cheek and tickling it softly. Padmé smiled at him, braving through the tears that had so recently dominated her face, as he lightly placed a kiss on her forehead, her skin tingling where his lips brushed her. As he reluctantly drew his head back away, they stared at one another, their eyes filled with warmth and adoration. As Ani threw her another reassuring smirk, Padmé again raised her fingers to his face, and slowly stroked his cheek once more, before she then took his face tenderly in both of her hands, and drew him down to her, kissing him lightly on the lips with…

~~

…a firm devotion. 

Serenn let her caress him, allowing her to hold her mouth to his, letting her bestow a love upon him that belonged rightfully to another; he was quite surprised himself at how well his deception was working, and the mendacity of it all enthralled him. Slowly breaking away from her amorous embrace, he brushed his nose against hers again and watched her relax down once more beneath him; she affectionately rubbed the rear of his head with her hands, before running them a little over his back, as he held himself above her.

He suddenly winced, hissing sharply, as she brushed the tender, bruised skin across his spine, the result of Master Yoda's earlier assault. Padmé looked at him, momentarily unsure as to what was wrong.

"It's nothing," he quickly said, enduring the pain, and channelling it into energy, almost having forgotten about his injuries; this swift answer fortunately convinced her, no suspicions seeming to rouse in her mind, and she promptly eased again. Dooku looked at her tear sodden face whilst he took in another sharp breath to quell the sting of his contusions, and, to clear her suspicions, went on to graze her lips over with his own, making out as though nothing was amiss. She made no rejection to this, and allowed him to go on to caress her eyes and her cheeks; he took up her tears with his lips, and seemed to miraculously consume her woes via this feat. 

Padmé exhaled in relief, feeling how…

~~

…Anakin's kiss, or even his mere touch, alleviated her misery and lessened her despair; her woes were drawn out of her body through mere contact with her lover, and this immeasurably relieved the heavy burden on her heart. She smiled widely at him again, laughing a little under her breath, her relief and delight were so great; she couldn't comprehend quite how he was doing it, but he was making her feel so much better, and she couldn't get enough of that.

Anakin pulled away from her, and smiled in return, "_Be at peace_," he said to her…

~~

…"Relax."

Serenn watched Padmé close her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair once again; she looked infinitely more serene now, her cheeks more flushed, and her body more peaceful.  He smirked once more to himself, before drawing himself up…

~~

…and gently laying atop her. 

Padmé felt a strange, dark fire burst around her insides as the heat of Anakin's body clashed against her own…but she took no heed of that. Anakin gave her one last smile before he lowered his head and locked his lips firmly about hers, kissing her ardently. Padmé yielded to him completely, clasping him about his neck; she was surprised by the power and the passion behind his kiss, but she had no inclination to pry him off; she wanted to savour the moment. She had come too close to losing him of late on several different occasions, and she didn't want to waste her time with him ever again…

Anakin briefly pulled away, breathing ruggedly, "_Be mine, Padmé_ "…

~~

…he growled firmly, "Give yourself to _me_."

Dooku glared at her manically, before grinning wickedly to himself, and locking his lips tightly about hers…

****

**_"PADMÉ!!"_**

****

Anakin shot up in bed, sweat trickling down his back, and his heart pelting hard in his chest. He breathed rapidly, and thrust his bed sheets off him, the duvet sticking to his heavily perspiring body; "Padmé…" he repeated quietly; it had been a dream.

Once his frenzied eyes focused, the walls of the medical halls met his gaze once again; he cringed, his right elbow aching beneath the strain of his new metallic appendage as his body still yearned for rest, needing many days before it would recuperate fully; but he couldn't just sit here and be idle. He'd just seen Padmé, as clearly in his mind as if she'd been in this room – and he knew immediately that she was suffering. He needed to get out of here now and find her!

He brushed his hand across his forehead, knocking the small curls of sweat-saturated hair away from his brow, and looked at the floor in dread – what was he supposed to do? He'd seen Padmé in his dreams, as clearly as he'd seen his mother in his dreams not so long ago. His dreams of his mother hadn't lied to him, and he'd reacted to them too late to save her, so what about his dreams of Padmé now, dreams of her and that…that iniquitous man?

"I'll save you, Padmé," Anakin whispered to himself, though he was completely unsure as to how he would achieve that end; just seeing her in his dreams, as she fell victim to that fiend, was enough to motivate him to action, though. 

His respiration slowed to a more regular pace, until his breathing was almost synchronised with a bleeping apparatus, monitoring his heart rate, by his bedside, "They won't stop me," he added. He monitored the gap under the door, watching to see if anyone would come in response to his loud start; but, after a few moments passed, there was no evidence of anyone stirring in the corridor outside, which he found considerably fortunate.

If Anakin's want of revenge hadn't been bloodthirsty enough throughout the day, it was only more vicious now. He knew what he had to do – he had to track down this man, who had become his archrival, and destroy him, no matter what the cost; yes, he'd been wanting Dooku dead since the moment that devil had taken Padmé from him, and had yet failed to accomplish his desire, but this time…this time he really knew it was serious. Finding the Count was the main problem, but once he had, the rest of his task, he was certain, would not be so difficult.

**TBC…**

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**NB #2:** 'Shaaks', for those of you who are unsure, are those massive cow-like things that Anakin rode in the Nubian meadow, during _Clones._


	10. A Dark Dawn

**Author's Notes**: Still here? Still think I'm sane? Well, please go on, then, if you haven't rang up the authorities to take me away in a straitjacket! LOL. BTW, it does have a bearing on the plot – I don't just write things (well, not usually) for their own sakes; and, remember, you don't **have to read this! I'm really enjoying myself, though**

**Disclaimer**: Jedi apparently own nothing, but does that go for Sith, too? I own nought SW, anyway – _all_ Mr. Lucas', _all_ the time, and just utilised by me for my own twisted amusement! ^_~

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 10**

"**D**o you believe what Count Dooku said? About Sidious controlling the senate? It doesn't feel right," Kenobi said sombrely, holding his hands together beneath the folds of his heavy Jedi robes; his injuries still stung, but he was recovering speedily, so had been released from the Temple's medical chambers. He had now come to meet Master Windu and Master Yoda in one of the towers of the Jedi Temple, just in time to watch the sun rise over the horizon, greeting the dawn of a new day, and simultaneously, a new era. 

The three were talking amongst themselves about the recent events that had induced war to erupt; Windu stood by Obi-Wan, looking out of a window across the skyline of Coruscant, whilst Yoda sat behind them in his chair, a dejected look hanging upon his face; "Joined the Dark side, Dooku has," Yoda grunted disconsolately in response to Kenobi's query, shaking his head at the bitterness that such a factor gave him; "Lies, deceit, creating mistrust are his ways now."

Windu nodded in a reluctant agreement, "Nevertheless," he said candidly, "I think we should keep a closer eye on the Senate."

Yoda approved of this suggestion by his fellow Council member, "I agree," he nodded hoarsely, letting his head fall again, his mind awash with sadness and confusion – the Dark side truly was clouding their vision, and their ability to use the Force was abating; the balance had been tipped in favour of the Sith Knights, whoever and wherever they were.

Windu turned back to Obi-Wan, "How is your apprentice?" he asked.

Kenobi looked at Mace for a moment, before glancing away and sighing pensively, "He's recovering, which is the main thing."

Windu could perceive the trouble in Obi-Wan's tone; his apprentice was evidently causing him great anxiety.

Kenobi continued, "Things could have been worse, though…a lot worse; Anakin was too reckless yesterday, too wild and overconfident; he thought that he was invincible, being 'The Chosen One' and all, but he clearly wasn't. And he still isn't!" Obi-Wan paused for a moment, lowering his tone to an uneasy, yet composed level, "His arrogance made him feel that he could take Count Dooku alone, but he couldn't; and Dooku took his arm clean off with little trouble. With the Count now having drafted Amidala to his side, Anakin's even more incensed toward him, and wants to immediately rush off and get her back"; he shook his head, "When will he realise that life doesn't revolve around him? That it's not going to work how he wants it to?"

"Patience, Obi-Wan, patience, "Yoda said soothingly, gesturing downward with his hand, "Only as good as their Masters, Padawans are. Make yourself calm before trying to set young Skywalker back on the right path."

Kenobi nodded, shaking his head in apology, "I'm sorry, Master Yoda, forgive me. Anakin can be just so taxing sometimes."

Mace made a slight gesture of understanding, "We presently must keep faith that the boy will bring balance to the Force. He could be our only hope."

Obi-Wan made a slight nod in return, "Yes," he murmured half-heartedly.

"A definite turn, Senator Amidala has made?" Yoda queried, moving the conversation forward; the glorious yellow of the morning sunlight was now sprawling over his chair as it peered through the high windows of the temple towers, washing the small Jedi's face with its warm glow.

"Yes, my Master," Kenobi verified, "She unfortunately has. I'm not sure what made her turn, but I can only imagine that Count Dooku had something to do with it."

"She didn't look too comfortable with his company," Windu added, "Not when I last saw her with him."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disgust, unable to comprehend how the former Jedi had fallen so low.

"A great loss to our Order his skills were," Yoda sighed disconsolately, "A great pity it is that he now uses them against us for such affairs. A great pity it is."

"But we can't interfere," Kenobi rejoined frankly, "It was her choice, and there's little we can do to obstruct any truly legal matters; if she's signed Dooku's treaty, then that's that."

Windu put his hands to his belt, and rubbed the leather over with his thumbs, "It's true," he concurred, "Though we now have bigger problems on our hands – the Senator's departure will undoubtedly leave a huge puncture in the Senate; to see such a senator abscond to the Separatist movement will cause much controversy amongst it's unstable ranks, especially because it is one who had seemed so staunch to the anti-war, Republican stance in the beginning"; he sighed, looking out over Coruscant as it was bathed in the day's first light, "It's heartbreaking," he added quietly.

There was a short pause. Kenobi watched the traffic flutter by in the skylanes meditatively, before disclosing sombrely, "I can't believe that war has begun."

Mace turned to him once again, "No…neither can I," he agreed, going on to say, "The convenience of the clones being there for us when we needed them makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Something's rotten in the Galactic Republic, manipulating events to its own end; something truly malevolent."

"But, I must admit," Obi divulged, "Without the clones, it wouldn't have been a victory."

"Victory?" Yoda blurted out suddenly, his little head rising to behold Kenobi, "Victory, you say?" 

Obi-Wan and Windu simultaneously turned to look upon the diminutive Jedi, and stared at him unsurely.

"Oh no, Master Obi-Wan, not victory," Yoda went on ominously, shaking his head in a reflective and grave disagreement, "The shroud of the Dark side has fallen." He paused for a second, glancing down before returning his sight to his fellow Jedi once more, "Begun the Clone War has."

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**A**nakin watched the traffic resentfully from the Supreme Chancellor's quarters, his arm in an inhibiting sling, and hung awkwardly across his chest; Giant Republic cruisers, laden with clone troopers, gunships and arsenal, could be seen ascending into the atmosphere of the morn, beginning their journey to the many corners of the Republic in an effort to defend it from the advances of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. War had indubitably begun.

The nurses had been reluctant to release him so swiftly from the confines of the Jedi clinic, but they had found in the end that trying to contain him was fruitless, and that he should just be allowed to do as he wished; he was old enough to look after himself, after all.

Anakin sighed sullenly, staring downward into space – he couldn't get his dreams of last night from out of his head; he was desperate to set off on a solo quest to find the woman that he loved and free her from that tyrannous Count, but he had no direction, and, despite his impatience to begin, he knew he'd just be wasting his time without a definite course to follow. The Chancellor had summoned him anyway, which he was thankful for – it got him away from the Jedi Temple and his overbearing, 'know-it-all' Master; Palpatine, in his eyes, was a truly great man, one whom he could confide in and be certain to get wisdom back; he may also acquire some inspiration from the Chancellor to help him on his way.

Anakin ran his left hand along the fabric of his sling whilst he reflected, feeling the hard, metallic skin of his replacement arm beneath it; part of him had gone with his arm, had been taken by Dooku, and the only fitting retribution for that in his opinion was 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth' – literally, this meant an arm for an arm, and he had no problem in levelling this score with the Count.

"Ah, Anakin, my boy, how good of you to come!"

Anakin slowly turned from the window and stared across the office, watching as the Supreme Chancellor entered the room; the elder man lightly clapped his hands together, and paced across the floor, his distinguished, senatorial robes brushing over the carpet.

"I live to serve, your Excellency," Anakin said humbly, his tone sombre due to his own inner sufferings; he bowed to the Chancellor as he approached him.

Palpatine nodded gruffly in response, and finally reached the Padawan's side, "I have been deeply upset by the events that have rapidly unfolded in the past twenty-four hours," he said sorrowfully, his icy grey eyes converging on Anakin's, "I realise that the Separatists dealt a horrific blow."

Anakin felt his inner self tighten in tension, and he looked across the horizon in distress, blurting out bitterly, without thought, "It feels a lot more to me." He swallowed hard, stalling for a moment, before turning his gaze back toward the Chancellor and hissing, "And I can feel nothing but hatred for Count Dooku."

Palpatine remained calm, seemingly unmoved; Anakin watched the Chancellor's face, certain that he was thinking about all the matters at hand, the weight of the entire, fragile Republic residing on his shoulders. The Chancellor, infact, was repressing something of a knowing smirk, but nevertheless allowed a discreet, chilling pleasure to inflame in his eyes; "Ah yes," he sighed calmly, "Our Separatist leader himself. Come out of his shell, has he?" 

He stepped over to his desk whilst Anakin obediently followed him, and their conversation continued; "More than merely that, your Excellency," the Padawan replied, "That traitor ruthlessly took us all captive on Geonosis – my Master, Padmé and I, that is – and –"

Anakin paused, inhaling sharply, and looked into space as he gathered his erratic thoughts, trying to compose himself. Palpatine monitored him carefully, charily observing the boy's paralinguistics. 

"He took Padmé from us," Anakin finally went on, "She decided to join him! And –" He swung his head to the side, his lip curling up; he didn't know how to deal with the rampant emotions raging within himself; "He just makes me _sick_! The way he 'touched' her, and…oh, I just want her _back_, your Excellency! Dooku forced her to join him, I know it!"

"Padmé has betrayed us, then?" the Chancellor asked, "And joined Count Dooku?"

"Yes!" Anakin snapped, continuing to rave on, "She believes this slander about a Sith Lord controlling the Senate, and tells me to 'try and understand' that she can't come back to it!"

Palpatine's eyebrows marginally rose and his eyes wandered away in thought.

"How can she join him?" Anakin shouted, pouring out his wrath onto the Chancellor, "How can she betray everything she's ever worked for?"

Palpatine turned back, untrammelled by Anakin's anger, understanding the source of his rage; he paced to Anakin's side and placed a hand onto the young Jedi's shoulder, "Calm yourself, Anakin," he purred soothingly, "They're not worth it."

Anakin swallowed hard, a distraught look on his face. Palpatine threw the boy a comforting smile, before continuing; "Padmé, I hate to say, has become a traitor, a traitor to the Republic…and this pains me as much as you, Anakin; I am so disappointed in her. She has joined another traitor, the Jedi turncoat, Count Dooku. _Be_ angry with them, Anakin – you have done no wrong; it is they that have betrayed you, not vice versa. Don't let their treacheries fall heavy on your heart."

He patted the boy on the shoulder, and took a seat at his desk, relaxing back into the deep padding of his black chair; "Padmé played you for a fool, didn't she?" he abruptly asked in a quiet tone.

Anakin's eyebrows rose slightly, and he turned to the Chancellor in surprise, carefully studying his visage.

"She did, didn't she?" Palpatine continued smoothly yet unremittingly, holding Skywalker's eyes firmly with his own, "She lead you to believe she shared your love, only to leave you to die at Dooku's hands."

Anakin shook his head a little, looking away, seeing the duel against the Count flash back in his mind once more, where Padmé just stood to the side and watched as he lay in pain and agony on the floor, writhing as electrical jolts of Force Lightning pummelled through his body. 

"Where was she, Anakin?" the Chancellor pressed.

The Padawan shook his head, "How do you know so much?" he asked charily in a low tone, glancing back to Palpatine's face.

He waved his hand dismissively in response, "I have my sources," he said nonchalantly, the matter not seeming of great significance to him.

Anakin felt his heart throb in his chest – was he right? Had Padmé left him to die purposely? "No, the Count manipulated her!" he retorted resolutely, determined not to believe that what Palpatine suggested could be at all credible, "He made her join him!"

"How?" the Chancellor shot back.

Anakin swallowed, before hastening on, "She said to me briefly, whilst I was still imprisoned…she said that he frightened her, and –" Anakin paused for a breather, thinking back to the events of the day before:

_~_

_"I'm sorry, Ani…I had to join…_him_…"_

_~_

"She was sorry, sorry about what she'd had to do…"

_~_

_"I'm so scared, Anakin.  I'm so messed up…"_

_"I don't know what's wrong with me… but when I'm around him, I…I can't control myself…"_

_~_

"She couldn't 'control' herself around him – he scared her and stuff."

_~_

_"It's just that… well, I can't seem to do what I want to when he's near me…I can't feel what I know I should be feeling…"_

_"When he _touches_ me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body; I feel cold inside, and scared… I've never felt like it before. I know that I want to break away from him, but I can't – something stops me, and I _can't_!"_

_~_

"He made her feel cold inside, and she said that she couldn't 'feel' what she wanted to, or act how she knew she should."

_~_

_"Anakin!" _

_ "I love you Ani!"_

_~_

"But she said that she loved me," he finally added, his eyes refocusing onto the Chancellor's vigilant countenance, "She said she **loved** me. And I take her word for it."

Palpatine appeared to be intrigued by it all, and he remained silent for some time, mulling over this information in his head. Leaning his elbows upon his desk before him, he placed his hands together and stared expressionlessly into the darkness of his office beyond whilst the cogs within his head turned. Anakin watched him with baited breath, as though the judgement of the Chancellor over the issue was a life or death matter for him.

"I know that you love Padmé, Anakin, but – and please don't think I'm trying to hurt you – don't let those feelings cloud your judgement."

Anakin exhaled a little discontentedly, the response not one that he'd wanted, and placed his free hand onto his hip, again turning his eyes away.

Palpatine continued, "You told me yourself how Dooku 'touched' her, and made her feel 'cold' inside, how he made her lose her 'self-control'. Do you really think that he will stop there?"

"No, she has sense!" Anakin cried, swinging his gaze back toward Palpatine.

"Yes, but is she strong enough to resist this man? Ask yourself that, Anakin," the Chancellor went on gravely, his tone frank, "If she couldn't resist him in the first place, then I doubt she will gather the strengths to do so thereafter."

Anakin saw the truth in Palpatine's harrowing words, each syllable hitting him hard at his core; "But I love her," he said quietly, "It doesn't matter what happens…that'll always hold true."

Palpatine sighed, looking upon Anakin with pity, "Just don't hold much hope, my boy. The Count is a manipulator."

"No, he's…" he hesitated, "She –" He paused amidst his words, staring away out of the windows again.

Palpatine tagged onto this vacillation, sensing the nature of the boy's thoughts with his own acute, secreted powers; "What is it?" he queried, studying Anakin's visage carefully.

Anakin continued to stare into space, "I…" he dithered, swallowing hard as he recollected his disturbing dreams of last night once more, "I dreamt about Padmé and…and Dooku. He…he –" The Padawan shook his head, not wanting to think about it any longer, "What can I do, Excellency?" he suddenly roared, his fuse blowing, "Tell me how I can get her back from _him_!" He slammed his fist down onto the desk before Palpatine, his face livid with anguish and distress, "There must be a way!!"

Palpatine shook his head again regretfully, "As long as she is on the side of the Separatists and you are on the side of the Republic, you cannot force her back, my boy. I'm sorry," he bluntly rejoined.

Anakin turned away, shaking his head in denial, and took a seat on the edge of the dais, lowering his head between his knees. Seeing how troubled the boy was, Palpatine decided to rise to his feet and walk to Anakin's side; he looked down upon him as he sat on the steps of the platform, "You must make your decision now, Anakin: to fight against Padmé and the Separatists as her enemy, or betray the Republic, and myself, and remain her friend. It's not easy, my boy, I know, but we're living in a time of war, and there is no time for such irresolution."

Anakin swallowed his hurt once again, and glared ahead with hate, his mind focusing on the Confederacy's Count, "And Dooku?" he asked openly, glancing up to the Chancellor by his side.

Palpatine made a shrug, "He's a powerful man, Anakin," he admitted as he lightly strolled down the steps from the dais and paced slowly across the floor of his office. He suddenly paused around five metres from the Padawan, before turning back to him and adding inexplicably, "But _not_ infallible."

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**T**he birds twittered outside, and a bright stream of sunlight drifted in hazily through the pale curtains. Padmé groaned, stirring beneath the creases of her duvet as her eyelids slowly flickered open, and stared at the ceiling above for a long time. Sighing, she pulled the silky blanket right up to her collarbone and cushioned herself further back into the mattress below – it was so soft and comfortable that she had little intention of getting up yet; she'd slept extremely deeply last night, and she felt somewhat refreshed this morning, though still troublingly uneasy.

The harmony of the chirping birds outside was music to her ears, and reminded her so much of her native land that she didn't want it to stop; she only had to close her eyes to feel as though she were at home, in her own bed again, with the rolling pastures of Naboo stretching out in all directions around her.

_'Relax, everything's going to be all right'_

_'Let out all your woes on me'_

Padmé closed her eyes, strange voices resonating around the innards of her mind. She curled up tight into a ball, groaning to herself, as the utterances made her begin to feel a little nervous.

_'It's all in the past. Don't let it both you any longer'_

_'Be at peace. Relax'_

"Anakin," she murmured silently to herself, not knowing quite why his name had leapt to her mind; her face contorted in disquiet, and she added tensely, "Ani…?" writhing in the bed with a sudden restlessness.

'_Perhaps I can help you sleep…'_

"No," she mumbled uneasily, "No, you couldn't."

_'Let go, Padmé. Let yourself _go_…don't lock yourself up'_

She groaned again, rolling over from one side onto her other, clutching the duvet tighter to herself. Outside, the birdsong seemed to have markedly stopped…

_'What's wrong? We're not frightened of the old Count, are we?'_

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes simultaneously as her memory snapped back into place and she finally came wide-awake, "Serenn?" she gasped. She looked to either side of her – the room was still and silent, and at complete peace; the sallow curtains fluttered a little by the far windows, stirred by a slight breeze that ushered under the door from the hall; the chamber had even taken on a certain warm edge, streaked with the golden light of the rising sun.

Padmé pushed herself up and held the quilt to her chest, shaking her head a little to knock her disarrayed hair back into place; the room was definitely empty and undisturbed. Her stomach churned as everything flooded back again, and her heart make a drastic cold pop as she set her eyes upon her clothes, folded neatly on the end of the bed; had she got undressed? She couldn't recall doing so, but…perhaps she had?

She swallowed hard, feeling suddenly light-headed – what had happened last night? She thought that she'd been with Anakin on Naboo, spending a wonderful time with him, but it soon became apparent to her that none of that had occurred. She didn't like this lack of knowing, this indecision or lack of confidence in her own memory; she recalled arriving here, at this manor, and even coming as far as this chamber, and, furthermore…well, she could remember Dooku coming **in**, but not going **out**.

"Oh, Force…" she sighed in distress, shaking her head and dropping it into her hands.

Before she had time to muse over her unpleasant thoughts, there was a brief knock at the bedroom door; she straightened to attention, clutching the bedcovers tighter to herself as her heart raced in shock. Hesitating, she felt unable to reply, so just stared at the closed door with an anxious anticipation.

There was a brief pause before, slowly, the door opened, and – to Padmé's relief – the head of an elderly woman peeped into the room; the lady was short and stout, with a kindly face and permed, grey hair. She turned to Padmé, and smiled warmly at her, stepping round the door, "Good morning, madam," she smiled kindly, a generous air about her, "I hope I didn't startle you."

Padmé stared at her for an instant, shaking her head in a stunted movement, not sure how to react yet.

"Oh, where are my manners?" the old lady went on, pushing the door to, "I'm Mrs. Tarso, Edna Tarso, one of the Count's 'housekeepers' if you will. It's too big a place for a busy man like him to take care of all alone, I'm sure you'll agree." She smiled again gently. 

Padmé relaxed a little, feeling a rare sense of safety in her presence; "I guess…" she stuttered in response, swallowing briefly, and watching the old lady totter across the floor.

"My husband and I – Bhade Tarso, he's called, you'll see him about the gardens mainly – have long looked after this place. We've been servants here since before the Count even returned– he was a Jedi before, you know, dear. Only ten years or so he's been out of that Order." She stopped by the curtains and thrust them open with vigour, allowing the sunlight to pour in. Padmé turned, squinting a little in the influx of light.

"What a glorious day! Perfect for a walk in the grounds, if you feel so inclined, madam," Edna went on, giving Padmé a swift glance and another cordial smile, "Oh, but poor dear, you need to get your bearings first! I shouldn't be so pushy! The Count told me to make sure that you were comfortable, and to supply you with your needs if necessary."

Padmé looked down to her side and frowned whilst she unknowingly brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear, listening carefully to the housekeeper's words; were they talking about the same man here?

"Can I get you anything, then, m' dear? Breakfast? A drink?" she continued.

"Where is the Count?" Padmé asked abruptly, looking hard at Edna.

Mrs. Tarso seemed to falter, the question seeming a little odd to her, "Why, he's out on business again. He won't be long. I'm sure he'll be back by the evening at least –"

"But, last night? Where was he last night?" Padmé then demanded, feeling an unwelcome headache coming on.

Edna seemed further perplexed by Amidala's inquiries, "In his bedroom, of course; where else should he be?" she answered, chuckling gently to herself, "Bless you, dear, you still look tired. Please feel free to sleep in a little longer – there's no rush. It'll do you some good."

"**All **night?" Padmé continued, "He was in his room _all night_?"

"I'm pretty certain, dear," the housekeeper nodded, a bemused smile remaining upon her face, "Now, can I get you anything? A glass of water, maybe?"

Padmé's brow remained furrowed, too many pieces missing from the puzzle for her liking; her mind was drawing a scary blank, and it unnerved her; "Er…a glass of water will do fine, thankyou," she finally managed to reply, her tone low and sombre.

Edna nodded courteously, "Okay, milady. I won't be long." She then departed, gently pulling the door to behind her as she left. 

Padmé again looked around the room – it all seemed so less foreboding in the morning sunshine; but didn't most things? She gathered part of the bed sheets about her, and slipped off the mattress, walking slowly to the window; across the balcony, beyond the panes of glass, she beheld her current vicinity in its full glory: rolling grasslands reached out for several acres in front of her, lined by a perimeter fence, which marked the boundaries of the Dooku estate; these in turn were filled with various types of foliage, and even a few grazing animals were contained in distant paddocks, both equines and cattle alike; these grounds gave way to a massive evergreen forest, that seemed to completely surround this isolated area, and, even further a-field, far into the distance, the searing teeth of rocky mountains could be perceived, their peaks tearing into the skies and towering over the infantile forests around them. It was a magnificent sight. 

Padmé pushed open the glass door before her and stepped out onto the small balcony beyond, taking a light grip of the barrier surrounding it. She took a deep breath of the fresh, pinewood air, letting the breeze out here cool her skin, and stared far off over the horizon; this planet was so at peace that the fact that war had just begun in the galaxy beyond it seemed incredulous; but her turning to the side of the Separatists – now officially the 'Confederacy of Independent Systems' – had also seemed incredulous but yesterday. Life often took these funny turns.

The wind whistled gently past her ears, and she stared blankly ahead, no focus in her eyes or in her heart, just a numb and dreadful emptiness. She inhaled deeply, feeling the tears again begin to pool in her eyes.

_'I'll always love you, Padmé! Don't forget that! Never forget that!!'_

She blinked, trying to hold back these incessant bouts of weeping; "I'm sorry, Ani," she sighed miserably, hoping that, in some miraculous way, he may hear her, "I'm not in control anymore."

She felt her knees weak beneath her, and it wasn't more than a few seconds until they buckled, and she slid slowly down beside the balcony banister, crying into the blanket that encompassed her.

**TBC…**

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**NB:** Hopefully Padmé will stop crying soon. ^_~ LOL. Poor girl…I am cruel to her…


	11. The Sith Lords

**Author's Notes**: Thanks everyone! As controversial as my fic was, you still all want more! LOL. I call it morbid curiosity, AKA human nature. And would you believe me if I told you that I came across a fic 'worse' than mine but concerning the same 'pairing'…? Hmm…I will say no more. And sorry about the delay – life goes on. I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I thought I ought to get something published sometime soon!

**Skywalker-Blue:** Thankyou for another wonderful review! It's great that you take so much time in writing your thoughts down for me. Re:Ch.9, yes, it was meant to be shocking, and I don't blame you for feeling 'repulsed' – it was evil. And the 'Hogwarts' likeness never occurred to me, though it could be a subconscious thing, seeing as I do like the Harry Potter books. Re:Ch.10, Dooku & Padmé will meet again soon, but not in this chappy, and I have things planned very like your suggestions – but I'll see where things go as I write! Thanks for your further encouragement and keep reading!

**Shadow-Angel:** Thanks – I'm glad you like my work! And there'd be no drama if authors weren't cruel to the characters. ^_~

**Heather Wan:** I can believe I did it… though it was damn hard to do it! Hopefully some 'butt-kicking' will return in future, but not immediately.

**Merrymoll:** *_hands oxygen mask_* Breathe! Please breathe!

**PadawanMage:** Wow! You read quickly! Welcome, and thankyou so much for taking the time to read my work! I'm further encouraged by your reviews! Re:Reviews, I can say that I used 'wizard' because, as far as I'm concerned, it's just the SW equivalent of the word 'cool' or what-not, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest, and I'll be returning my sights to the situation with Naboo v. soon. The Dracula-like theme in Ch.9 was totally subconscious – it wasn't until the 4th time or so I read through that part that I thought 'whoops' – it wasn't intentional, but it works well for Dooku's villainous character in my story; and it _was_ twisted, but people like warped things really! ^_~ I suppose the 'bedroom scene', as you put it, could've been made for Mr. Lee – I'm a huge fan of his, and he's v. good at that type of thing, though I'd be kinda embarrassed if he ever read my work…

And, yes, you got the Hamlet line!

**Disclaimer**: You can't sue me, anyway. I'm broke. ^_^

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 11**

**D**ooku's golden solar sailor glided down into the atmosphere of Coruscant, its sails retracting into its hull as it left the vacuum of space. It slipped unnoticed between the masses of skyscrapers of the Republic capital, attracting little if any attention from passing air traffic as it sped on toward a derelict old area of the city, a vicinity where industry had once thrived but which was now left to ruin. The vessel slowed as it approached a large skyscraper, the walls of which were crumbling in places, allowing the metallic girders of the structure's framework to become unattractively visible. There was no sign of air traffic around this neglected district; infact, there seemed to be no sign of any life whatsoever. But all of this belied the truth.

The craft slowed to a mere hover as it reached the building, and suddenly, a barely discernible panel in the structure's walls hissed open and permitted the vessel access to the inner construction beyond. The Count's ship crawled into the building, and settled down on its legs in the incredibly well furnished hangar within; its derelict outer shell clearly hid a perfectly serviceable inner sanctum, and for a purpose. The engines whined down to a halt as the Count deactivated his craft, and paced out of the ship; as he walked down the rear ramp, he was met by a hooded figure that slithered ominously from the shadows of a corner of the room: his Master, Darth Sidious.

Dooku bowed to the man, greeting him courteously with his silence. Sidious made an imperceptible and tenuous nod in return, "Welcome home, Lord Tyranus," he said in his chilling, distinctive tone of voice, "You have done well."

"Thankyou, my Master," Dooku replied reverently, his hand slipping into the folds of his tunic and withdrawing a small, circular object from a pocket within. Sidious watched the Count's movements, and opened his hand toward him as the ex-Jedi went on to place the item in his grasp.

"Ah, the plans, yes?" Sidious queried quietly. 

Dooku made a gruff nod before they went on to walk toward the exit from the hangar.

"Excellent," the Sith Master continued, his hood overshadowing his pallid countenance as he paced forward unhurriedly, "Everything is going as planned. I now have the Clone Army at my every beck and call, and the complete power of the Senate resides on my shoulders."

He placed the small article into the folds of his own robes, the plans now safe and secure with him; "Plus, the antagonism between the Republican loyalists and the believers in the Confederacy has begun to further escalate at an astonishing rate. Things couldn't be any sweeter."

"And the Jedi?" Tyranus queried indifferently.

"Ah, yes, the Jedi," Sidious mused with a deep rooted satisfaction, "Having recently received the report from the Temple on yesterday's conflicts, I can happily relate to you that they are sore from loss and licking their wounds, trying to ponder where it all went wrong!" He cackled, lightly clapping his hands together with elation, "Oh, and they now fear 'the Sith Lord', anxious to know 'his' location, since you planted the seed of suspicion in their minds. That was an ingenious move, my apprentice, an ingenious move."

Tyranus allowed a smirk, "Fools. The Dark side has clouded their minds so thickly that they can't see through the fog."

"No," Sidious concurred, "They can't."

They continued on, stepping through a doorway and walking onwards down a dimly lit passage, the floor covered in an unwelcoming durasteel, and the walls likewise; it wasn't a comfortable place, but it was adequate for the veiled machinations of these two Sith. They worked well as a team, their partnership more evenly balanced than that of Sidious' first pairing with protégé, Maul; the single-minded, tattooed youth had been more a mere tool than an efficient accomplice, and had paid for his lack of forethought with his life. But Sidious felt no loss for his former apprentice – there was no use dwelling on the past. He had adapted, and selected another apprentice swiftly, one who would aid his changing needs as the Sith slowly ascended back into power. Sidious would never accept being anyone's equal in the Sith lineage, though, no matter how sophisticated and honourable the other was. And Tyranus, Maul's unanticipated replacement, knew it.

"And you pulled Amidala into your grasp," Sidious went on, his tone lower than before, "I am impressed."

Tyranus' own lips rose into a contented grin, "Has it caused quite a stir?" he asked flippantly as they entered a lift shaft.

Sidious cackled once they stood in the elevator, and it began to descend down the duct, "Oh, yes, _quite_ a stir. Shock emits forcefully through the circles of the senate, spreading like wildfire, inciting mistrust and revulsion as it grows – you know yourself of the corrupt gossip-lovers these bureaucrats are!" He chuckled quietly again before adding, "They call her a 'hypocrite', and a 'weakling'… it is just too delicious, my apprentice!"

Tyranus' dark eyes hardened with base pleasure, "Yes, quite delicious," he mused, fleetingly licking his lip.

"I trust you are taking care of her?" the Sith Master went on sardonically.

"But of course," the Count rejoined with a feigned shock, "What kind of host do you take me for, my Lord?"

Sidious laughed again, "She has had things her way too long, that girl. She's been a thorn in my side since she succeeded Veruna into the monarchy on Naboo, and it's about time that she was on the receiving end."

Tyranus' smirk widened a smidgen, but he decided not to comment.

"Her loss extends not just to the Senate, but through the Jedi," Sidious added seriously as the lift stopped, and opened unto a dark, forbidding control room, deep in the building's depths. "In particular to the Jedi's 'Chosen One'." The two walked out into this shadowy chamber.

"Skywalker?" Tyranus queried in disgust, turning up his lips in detestation; the mere name itself now served as a catalyst to ignite his antipathy. He growled discreetly to himself, pacing to a stop in the room's centre.

"Yes," Sidious purposefully leered, "Your new Jedi 'friend'."

Serenn scoffed, turning away in repugnance, "Yes. '_Friend'_."

The Sith Master chortled again, his laugh bitter and cruel, cutting the Count's presently erratic disposition like a hard, sharp knife; had it been any other person taunting him, Dooku would have felt the need to retaliate, but he knew far better; he was many things, but he was no fool.[1] "Tell me, Tyranus – what exactly happened yesterday? I have conversed with the boy, but so bent was he on vengeance against you, that he neglected to tell me much about the actual 'tussle' that you had – he even neglected to mention the oh-so-blatant loss of his arm!"

The Count's eyes glared away blankly into the darkness, "I was too confident," he commented vaguely, "And I paid for such idiocy."

His short remark immediately told Sidious that his apprentice, like Anakin, was not intent on exposing much detail about the battle to him. "Enlarge on your point," he ordered the former Jedi, wafting his hand toward him in gesture, before folding his arms across his chest, his heavy sleeves rubbing against one another.

Serenn sighed reluctantly, staring down toward the floor like some schoolboy being rebuked, "We fought –"

"You don't say?"

Tyranus glared briefly at Sidious, irritated by such a swift and snide interruption. But he disregarded it just as speedily, and went on, "I dealt with Kenobi effortlessly. But Skywalker… he was so angry and frenzied. I admit to being not wholly on my guard as it was, seeing as I had to keep Padmé under some form of restraint, but –"

"Skywalker injured you?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Chest and arm."

"But not severely?"

"No." 

"Fortunately for you."

Tyranus silenced after the brief firing round of questions, watching as his Master prowled to the far end of the room and took a seat upon a solemn, black chair; "You should not have been injured at all, my apprentice."

Serenn exhaled loudly, "I know," he sighed with exasperation, "But I took the boy's arm, didn't I?"

"Yes," Sidious shrugged, the fact seeming to be of absolutely no consequence to him, "But an arm can be, like many things, replaced."

There was a short pause, in which Sidious smiled silently toward Tyranus, letting his open point sink in. The Count waited for his Master to go on, knowing that he wasn't quite finished.

"And Kenobi," Sidious soon continued, "Why does he live?"

This sudden digression from Anakin to Obi-Wan confused Dooku a little, but he responded nevertheless, "I prepared to kill him, but –"

"But nothing. He should have died."

"You're being overly expectant, my Lord."

"On the contrary, I would have expected at least Kenobi's death at your hands," the Sith Master hissed with a clear and hard disappointment. Tyranus' lip shuddered discreetly in resentment, and he briefly glanced away to calm his inner self whilst his Master's eyes remained upon him. Sidious watched his protégé's body language carefully before going on to slowly shake his head in an unsettling manner "That's _two_ Sith protégé's of mine that that Jedi has irksomely evaded – how many more will it take?"

Tyranus eyed his dark mentor cautiously as he made that final comment and swallowed slowly, mulling over the words in his astute mind.

"Something I sense in you tells me that you're reluctant to hurt Kenobi. In your battle, you hid this reluctance, this disinclination to fight him, with…'sarcasm', no?" Sidious continued, prodding the Count with words, intending to make him feel awkward, "And you even went to the extent of carefully placing wholly ineffective blows upon him."

Dooku's face contorted slightly in confusion, amazed at the incredible depth and detail of the Master's knowledge, "You read minds and memories well, my Lord, for sarcasm I did use, yet –"

"Answer the question," Sidious brusquely snapped.

"Why should I have an unwillingness to hurt Kenobi?" Dooku retorted dryly, gesturing fractiously with his hands.

Sidious sniggered, "An old tactic of yours, isn't that my apprentice?" He paused for a bitter chuckle, "'Mister Circumlocution', answering a question with a question."

Tyranus monitored Sidious warily, remaining silent.

The Sith Master leant forward in his chair and placed his fingers together in his lap, "Why should you have an unwillingness, indeed?" he asked rhetorically, his scorn shrouding the current frustration he felt toward Dooku, "Well, I was hoping you would tell _me_."

Serenn felt his fists tighten, pressure building on his shoulders; his blood pulsated in his ears as he stared hard at Sidious unwaveringly, determined not to yield to the bizarre entreaties of his Master.

Another pause ensued, this one being strikingly longer than the last; several consoles in the control room beeped and whirred in the lull, the few lights of various buttons reflecting in Dooku's eyes. He held his stare into the dark depths beneath Sidious' cowl, holding his brazen tongue for once.

Once this silent period had passed, Sidious finally made a move, and, exhaling loudly, grimly smirked, "You choose not to answer, then?" He had made no effort to force anything from his apprentice, which made Tyranus even further uneasy on the matter; Dooku maintained his own silence, remaining stationary. 

"Then I presume that you have something to hide from me," the Master added, as calm and composed as ever.

"His Lordship presumes in error, then," Tyranus rejoined quietly.

"Don't try my patience," was all that Sidious retorted with, his tone coming sharp and swift like a flying dart. Tyranus knew when he was beaten, and stayed down.

"We must focus on our next steps," the Sith Master went on in his typically calm and measured tone, acting as though no tension fizzled in the air, "We need to stretch things in this conflict out. I think that your position is currently strong; you need to rally more systems to your cause, but at least make sure to secure the stability of Naboo."

Tyranus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "And if Naboo defy their now legitimate attachment to my movement?"

"You're in your rights to, thenceforth, force it into the Confederacy. Amidala has signed it to you, has she not?"

"She has."

"Case closed, then. If it repels you, invade it and take it."

"And what of Amidala? I have her under tight control now, being present with her on my home planet, but there will come a time when I will need to trust her to be solitary, and to maintain faith to my movement."

"Are you telling me that you haven't already sorted this?" Sidious asked incredulously, looking to the Count knowingly with a wicked grin etched into his pale features.

Tyranus perceived an element of sick merriment underneath the Sith Master's lucid tone, and frowned thoughtfully, pondering exactly what the Sith Master meant, and exactly what the Sith Master knew – or thought that he knew; "It's been little more than twenty-four hours since I encouraged her to join my movement, my Master, and –" he began to reply.

"I'm _not_ talking about 'on-paper' agreements, Tyranus," he interrupted suggestively.

Dooku stared hard, just able to make out the gleam of Sidious' pupils beneath the shadow of his hood; he recognised the deep knowledge in his eyes, and swallowed hard as Sidious once again snickered, his laughter ever more cold and callous, "I'm impressed by you, Tyranus. I didn't think you had it in you."

Serenn studied the Sith Master carefully, too wary of his volatile nature to dare make a move yet; after Sidious' bitter and sharp temper yesterday, this contrast made him more than a little uncomfortable, though it was not unwelcome.

"You've _claimed_ her, taken the one thing from her that she can't claim back. What makes you worry so much for her allegiance now? She cannot come back to the Republic; they all hate her for her hypocritical move! And she shares a certain 'bond' with you, now, my apprentice. –"

"_'Bond'_?" Dooku spurted in disgust, disrupting the flow of his Master's dialogue.

"Don't discredit the word for its phonological _gentleness_; you know exactly what I mean," he retorted, pointing a hard finger at his protégé in gesticulation, before continuing "Use that against her; she will remain with you because she will soon have nowhere else to turn; you will become her only salvation. And that says a lot for her future."

"And what of this 'Anakin'," the Count moved on, not wishing to dwell on the matter, "You have mentioned that you've spoken with him."

"Yes, I have. He is on a short leash, as much as he thinks that he is not; I will handle things concerning the boy. But, if at all possible, all I ask of you is to further incite his rage whenever you find the opportunity."

"'Incite his rage'?" Serenn queried indecisively, "I don't see what more I can do, Master. I've taken his arm, his woman, –"

"And that is plenty for the time being, I agree," Sidious nodded swiftly, wafting his hand toward him in a signal of silence, "But if you can further topple his Jedi demeanour, if you can further bring him toward the brink of utter unruliness, then do it. I want the Chosen One to fall and help bring the balance of the Force over to our side. I've already begun to topple his trust in his beloved Padmé; just as you planted the seed of suspicion in Kenobi's head concerning myself, I have planted a similar seed in his mind involving her; oh, we've been planting many seeds lately, haven't we, my friend?"

Dooku looked at Sidious' leering countenance, his eyebrow raising slightly, the question baited; "Yes, my Master," he replied monotonously, deciding to keep his response simple. He suddenly paused, thinking things over for a moment, the cogs turning within his mind, "Master, I must ask you, how is it that you know so much? About what has so recently…'transpired'?"

Sidious face swelled smugly, "Ah, because the _boy_ knew so much."

"Anakin?" Dooku asked; Sidious nodded before the Count continued, "He told you these…these 'things'?"

"No, of course not," the Sith Master rejoined dismissively, "He tried to, but it was too painful. His mind, regardless, was widely open for me to read, and I hence found my information there."

"But how did _he_ know?"

"Through the Force, I expect. He is, after all, the Chosen One, and the Force, thus, is his servant. He's powerful, Tyranus. Don't forget that."

Tyranus shook his head, "Do not fret, my Lord. I certainly won't."

"You feel a strong grudge against this boy?"

"Yes, I do. And I will avenge myself," the Count replied, "For now, however, I have exacted a certain revenge upon him –"

"Through her?" Sidious interrupted.

"Indeed," Dooku continued, "And I am consequently content until we meet again. My only salvation will be to face him once more in battle."

"Is it now?" Sidious said quietly, taking this information in; then, discreetly, he remarked to himself, "So be it."

**TBC…**

  


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[1] This was in the Star Wars Factfile Issue 65, in an article about Yoda and his fight with the Count – I just had to use it! ^_^ It just fit perfectly!


	12. Ambitions & Fears

**Author's Notes**: Wow! Four reviews within 24 hours! You guys are well loyal! I'm glad you all enjoyed a bit of Sithly interaction – I find Sidious in particular great fun to write about; he's such a wonderful character. I think I owe a lot to Jude Watson's wonderful 'Maul's Journal' – if you haven't read it, do so, because the characterisation of Sidious is fantastic, and the book even manages to get you feeling a little sympathy for Maul when you read about his upbringing (or at least Watson's version). It's been an inspiration for my writing since I first read it.

I've recently revamped my entire 'Star Wars' website so that took up a lot of my time, amongst school work, hence why this chapter took some time. It's nothing major, but moves things along a bit. More Dooku-Padmé next, I think.

**Ami:** No doubt about Dooku being evil. Heh. ^_^ Keep reading.

**PadawanMage:** I'm glad you liked the word play – I just sat and wrote the chapter, and it just flowed so well! I really love writing Sidious & Tyranus together – they almost have a competition of words and wit going on. And as to what happened, I'm **not** going to tell you whether anything did or did not happen! I write the story – you read and interpret it how you like! That's the fun of it!

**SKYwalker-Blue:** Again, Tyranus and Sidious just came naturally to me. I think Tyranus would hold his own against Sidious because he's not the kind of guy, like Maul, willing to be second best – he is more Sidious' equal, though not quite. And I'm glad it made you laugh – it was meant to. ^_^ And I'm **not** telling you if anything happened or not – you read what you will from what I write, if you get my meaning. As someone once said (though I don't know who): **_'It's not what the writer writes, but what the reader reads'_**.

**Strider's Girl:** Ah, '_Star Wars_ factfile' can be helpful in the most unlikely places! Are you from the UK then if you get it? Anyway, I'm glad you too enjoyed a bit of Sithly interaction – no butt-kicking again but, as you'll read, it's getting a little closer. I have something planned for Padmé soon that you may like…

**Kalena:** I bet this is a bit of a change from the mainstream Padmé romance! LOL. I'm glad you think mine's amongst the best. Many thanks!

**Electra292:** I think Padmé's upset _anyway_, never mind when she finds out the Count is actually the second Sith! ^_^ I'm very chuffed by your kind comments – I'm so glad that you've enjoy what I've been writing! It is twisted but it's a bit of a break from the norm. Keep reading!

**BexMix:** The 'hooking thumbs' thingy means _that_? Really? I didn't know! Though I suppose it does seem in place in some parts of my fic. ^_~ Heh. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic, and I understand all about being a student – being one myself, I can only churn one decent chapter out once in a while. I'm glad that you too enjoy my 'creepy' work, and, if I ever get to the end, providing you like dark ones, you should enjoy it! Keep reading!

**Shadow-Angel:** Again, thanks – I really appreciate your support!

**Disclaimer**: Still broke, so don't get any ideas…or lawsuits. ^_^

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 12**

**A**nakin walked inconspicuously down the dully-lit aisles of the Jedi Archives. He ignored the persistent pain of his throbbing wound, his mind still buzzing over exactly what he should do next. The library was even quieter than usual; many Jedi had been lost on Geonosis for one thing, and more still were being deployed across the galaxies now that war was imminent. If the enemy wanted to use a divide and conquer strategy against them, then things were tilting in their favour.

Anakin came to a halt as he reached the golden bust of the final Jedi of the Lost Twenty, in the main hall of the Archives; it was his nemesis, Count Dooku. He scowled at the bronze likeness, his anger surging deeply within him, and, glancing to either side to make sure that no one's attention was on him, quickly spat at the statuette in odium. His saliva settled upon the sculpture's nose, and he watched with some crude satisfaction as it ran down the nose's bridge, and trickled round the channels of the face's folds. He was tempted to just run the figurine through, but, beside the fact he was still relying upon the use of solely his left arm until his right healed, he had no weapon, his last lightsabre having been lost in the factory upon Geonosis. He had yet to build a replacement – all in due time.

He turned his attention to the computer consoles that lined the central passageway of the Archives; as his eyes peered over them, he realised that there was only one Jedi occupying the entire space, Council Member, Ki-Adi Mundi. Anakin sighed, not quite sure exactly what he was planning on finding out here; he knew that knowledge was power, and he needed some form of knowledge in order to help him overcome his most recent foe, the Jedi traitor, Count Dooku. With the man having been a Jedi, there couldn't be any better place to research him and his past than here, in the Jedi Archives; whether there would be any records of any use in these files was another thing, however.

"Anakin Skywalker? My, it's a miracle! Have you actually come to the Archives _willingly_?"

Anakin paused, his train of thought interrupted; he turned about on the spot and met the eyes of Jocasta Nu, Archive Librarian. She smiled at him light-heartedly, and paced to his side, "I remember the trouble poor Master Kenobi used to have in dragging you in here as a youngster," she reminisced, "Yes, you were quite a stubborn one. But forgive me, ranting on like this – is there anything I can do for you?"

Anakin made her a brief smirk in response, saying, "I'm here because I feel I need to be, Madam Nu. I need to find out more about my enemy. I was hoping the Archives would help."

"They may be able to, young Skywalker," she said, "What 'enemy' is it of which you speak? The Trade Federation? We have stacks of files on them; or maybe the Commerce Guild? That's another corporate sector upon which we have a wealth of data."

"No, Madam Nu," he replied quietly, "I'm talking about one who was once one of our own." He paused and gestured briefly toward the bust behind him; "I'm talking about Count Dooku."

Nu looked at him, and seemed to vacillate slightly, so Anakin took this opportunity to continue, "Though you have been polite enough, madam, to do me the favour of paying no heed to my arm, I know that you're as aware as any that it is a painful injury which I'll bear for the rest of my life; and you also know, as word has spread, that it was exacted by that man, Dooku."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Anakin," Nu replied, looking at his bionic arm with pity, "But I cannot show you data on that man. I appreciate your wanting to understand his mind, but, seeing as he still lives, most of his data remains confidential, and will do so for some time, even after his death. You can only find basic details of him on the universal database, and that will be of little use to you."

She sighed, adding, "Though I doubt that you'd even discover much of any use to you in the main records, Anakin. He was an enigmatic man."

Ani nodded slightly, disappointed; he didn't see why Dooku's data had any right to remain confidential after he abandoned the Order, but if that was the Jedi's policy, then there wasn't a lot he could do to amend it.

"I am sorry to have made your journey a wasted one," Nu added, registering the Padawan's displeasure, "I'm afraid that only Jedi who sit on the Council or who have special permission can read the confidential files."

She tapped his left arm lightly in a comforting gesture, "But I beg of you, Anakin, to let the Council deal with the Count. I knew him as a Jedi; he was an obstinate man, fixed on his own objectives, and a powerful fighter, as you have regrettably discovered. Do not let yourself be shattered against such a rock."[1] 

Anakin looked at Jocasta as she left him, feeling a little insulted; "It'll be he who is 'shattered' next time," he growled discreetly to himself once the librarian had disappeared down another aisle, "Mark my words."

Feeling that there was little use of him remaining here if all of the decent material was 'under lock and key', so to speak, he began to make his way out of the Archives; just ahead of him, down the hallway, Ki-Adi Mundi finished his work on his computer console, and, carelessly clicking-off the terminal, alighted and departed from the hall. 

Anakin watched the Jedi leave as he continued to pace back down the hallway; as he passed the terminal that Mundi had just left, he realised that the Jedi – so encompassed within his own thoughts – had failed to log out of the Archival network properly. Anakin paused, his eyebrows swiftly rising as a notion burst forth into his mind; Mundi had failed to log out, and Mundi was a Jedi Council Member, and the Jedi Council had access to all the confidential files on the network, as Nu had just explained.

Anakin snickered, "Idiot," he whispered to himself, disgusted that any Jedi should be so absentminded. He quickly glanced about the halls again, making sure that Jocasta Nu wasn't sashaying about anywhere near him, and slipped down into the seat, going on to browse the restricted Jedi personnel files as quickly as his single hand would allow.

"I'm sure there'll be something in here worth knowing," he mumbled to himself as pages flashed across the flat-screen monitor, reflecting in his frenzied eyes, "There has to be." 

Finding the 'Search' field covering the complete personnel archives, Anakin, with a certain satisfaction, typed in the following characters firmly:

**'D' 'O' 'O' 'K' 'U'**

Then, he hit enter.

The console took a few seconds to do its search before it brought up a list of hyperlinks to all of the past people, logged into its files, under the name of, or name similar to 'Dooku', listing their late rank, status and sex. Anakin skimmed over them all carefully:

**Doku, Vanja – Knight – ND – ****Female******

**Dooku, Carandini – Knight – KIA – ****Male**

**Dooku, Serenn – Padawan candidate – DE – Male******

**Dooku, Serenn (II) – Master – OR – Male**

**Dooku, Xandra – Padawan Candidate – DE – ****Female******

**Dooyu, Gitte – Master – MIA – Female**

His eyes paced up to the key for the meanings of the acronyms in the status column – obviously, his man was one of the three males listed: Carandini, Serenn (I) or Serenn (II); which one would depend on exactly what the statuses, attributed to each, meant. He started with Carandini Dooku:

"KIA," Anakin murmured to himself, reading aloud the meanings of the acronyms, "_'Killed in Action'_. I wish."

He scrolled about for DE, the letters appointed to Serenn (I): "_'Denied Entry'_," he stated once he found it; he mused over this for a second – the name likeness was too good to be a coincidence, suggesting that in the far past of the Jedi Order, other candidates of the Count's clan of 'Dooku' had indeed been offered up for Jedi training; "Why couldn't they have denied _your_ entry?" he sneered toward the absent Count.

"So this means–" Anakin continued, deducing by trial and error that Serenn (II) was his man, "That _this_ is you." He double-checked the acronym for the final contender: OR – _'Order Renounced'_. Perfect! His man was found.

"Let's have a look, then," Anakin grinned, opening the file on the former Jedi:

_'**Name:** Dooku, Serenn Mirozan Carandini_

**_Species:_**_ Human_

**_Sex:_**_ Male_

**_Place of Birth:_**_ Serenno_

**_Age of Entry:_**_ 3 standard years_

**_Jedi Rank:_**_ Master (off role)_

**_Master:_**_ Yoda_

**_Padawans:_**_ Jinn, Qui-Gon; Vosa, Komari[2]; Sato,Tylana'_

Anakin paused – besides the fact that most of these blatant facts were useless to him, his interest was captured by the names of two Jedi in Serenn's profile which shocked him as to their connection with him – Qui-Gon Jinn & Yoda.

"What is this?" Anakin growled in disbelief; surely this couldn't be true! Surely that evil man couldn't have been the trainer of Jinn, and surely Yoda hadn't trained this maniac – there was no way that a proper Padawan of Yoda's could turn out so maniacal!

He sat back, needing to reflect upon these points for a moment; he felt betrayed for some reason, even hurt, though he wasn't sure who or what by. It was something connected with these implausible pieces of information, nevertheless. And if apprentices trained by the great Yoda ended up becoming so vile, what hope was there for the rest of the Padawan body of the Order?

"Why didn't you tell me, Obi-Wan?" he murmured to himself; he had a firmer connection with the Count than he'd like to think: Dooku had trained Jinn, who had in turn passed his knowledge down to Kenobi, who had handed his on to him. In a way, they were almost family, sharing, not the same blood, but the same train of knowledge. And that thought alone made him wince.

Yet he felt that he deserved better than not to be told about it all; Kenobi couldn't protect him forever, and if things were the truth, then they needed to be disclosed; the Jedi Order had a habit of being hypocritical, and keeping controversial things quiet. Anakin felt that they didn't always have the right to do such.

Pushing aside this information (he'd confront Kenobi concerning this Qui-Gon & Yoda conundrum later on), Anakin went on to scroll down the screen, and glance through the main parts of Dooku's profile; "You must have some weaknesses…" he mused to himself, concerning the Count; there was information on Serenn's skills throughout life, of when he'd passed certain levels of training, and even a list of his offences during his time in the Order (and he had many of them, not really to Anakin's surprise).

Anakin wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but it had to be some facet of information that he could focus on, something that could be used against the former Jedi.

"Lightsabre skills," he narrated, "Specialist in Form II combat."

He sat back, staring at the screen blankly in thought, "Form II?" he sighed, his eyes hardening; Form II was a specialist form of combat, which focused on lightsabre-to-lightsabre duelling. It was no wonder that Dooku was such a good combatant considering now that he had been trained in this fine and intricate art. Anakin wished that Master Yoda had determined not to tutor his Padawan in this art those years ago – it would have saved them all a lot of trouble now; Dooku must have been a trusted and capable Padawan in his time for the great Jedi Master to have deemed him worthy of attaining a level in Form II. Anakin was almost jealous.

"Then I must train in Form II, as well. I must play Dooku's own cards against him, and come out on top. No, more than that – I'll master _every_ lightsabre art, and I'll train harder and for longer than I ever have before! My arm will grow stronger, as will my mind, and then I will be able to destroy him and bring Padmé back to me!"

He breathed rapidly, taken over by a sudden frenzy and mad determination – he was potentially the most powerful Jedi ever; learning all forms of combat wasn't beyond him, surely. But training in just one Jedi art, let alone seven, took time; and he would somehow have to train himself – Kenobi was a Form III specialist, a master of defense, and wouldn't be too willing to coach him in the more violent Jedi Forms, especially after the recent battles. Not only this, but his severed arm was a real impediment – he wasn't sure when he would become finally become fully accustomed to his metallic limb.

Anakin sighed – he needed time, and he needed help.

Or maybe he could do without help? If he downloaded everything he could from the database now on each of the Forms, he could possibly start training himself – he had to begin quickly, and finding a willing coach was just another in a long line of obstacles that he couldn't be dealing with; he could do it, he knew he was capable. Therefore, if he went ahead in this vein, his only remaining dilemma was **time**; and there was no way around that.

_'your patience has paid off'_

Anakin knew that Palpatine had been right when he had remarked such – he'd gotten his first solo mission via patience and determination; he would just have to do the same again now, and persevere, train hard, and keep aiming toward his latest target. The wisdom of the Chancellor was unrivalled, even by most of the Jedi, in Anakin's mind; he consequently resolved to listen to the Chancellor's every judicious word; he'd lost faith in Obi-Wan on many occasions, and Yoda he'd now lost faith in, too; Palpatine seemed to be the only true voice left:

_'You must make your decision now, Anakin: to fight against Padmé and the Separatists as her enemy, or betray the Republic, and myself, and remain her friend. It's not easy, my boy, I know, but we're living in a time of war, and there is no time for such irresolution'_

If the Chancellor's words went once, they went again; it hurt, but, for now, Anakin decided that Palpatine was right – time for irresolution was over. He would remain loyal to the Chancellor and the Republic; he would not be Padmé's enemy, though – he would be her saviour, her rescuer, her liberator; he would win her back from the maw of the Confederacy, and the grasp of the Count.

"I will learn Form II and use it against you, Serenn; I will run you through and watch you fall, Serenn. Mark my words: I will destroy you, _Serenn_, and take back from you what is not, and never has been, yours. The look on your face, _Serenn_, of defeat will be a satisfaction to me forever. Yes – I'll remember that moment for eternity when it finally arises, **_Serenn_**," he growled, repeating the Separatist leader's name to himself at every opportunity, like a wicked incantation.

"I will kill you, Serenn. When the next time comes, I will be ready for you. And I will kill you."

Taken over by a mad frenzy and determination, his hands shifted quickly across the keyboard and entered into the 'Combat Form' archives, from which he would download all he possibly could on the lightsabre arts. If he had just resolved to delve deeper into Serenn's file of 'offences', however, he may have just found something more interesting and more useful…

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"_'**P**erfidious Padmé'_? Ugh, confound these holo' reporters!" Sola cried, switching off the holoproj' swiftly as another damning report concerning her sister's shock turn to the Separatists began to come on air in the news hour, "I can't believe what's going on! Where is Padmé?"

Jobal looked over to her eldest daughter from the dinner table, her eyes filled with the fears and anxieties that she knew also haunted Sola's heart; Jobal was Padmé's mother, Sola, Padmé's sibling, and the recent events that had seen the Republic thrown into civil war, and Padmé simultaneously disappear into a mire of speculation and rumour, was already taking a heavy toll on all members of the Naberrie family, at home on Naboo.

"I don't know, Sola…" Jobal sighed, shaking her head gently and staring blankly down at the table, "But I just pray that she's all right."

Also sat at the table were Sola's two daughters; Ryoo, six years old, was sat proudly at the table head, whilst Pooja, her four-year-old sibling, was sat round to her left. Though their immaturity made them numb to the true devastation that this latest predicament was causing the family, they nevertheless knew that something was not right, and that it had a lot to do with their aunty Padmé and her erratic political lifestyle.

It had been only a few days since Padmé had paid the family a brief visit, bringing her bodyguard, the young and handsome Jedi, Anakin with her. They had learnt of the danger she was in then, too. What had happened recently, however, had thrown them into a state of perplexity, for it seemed that Padmé's life wasn't in danger as it had been before, but that she'd made a most unexpected move, and changed sides in the political struggles within the Republic, transcending from loyalist to separatist. And, not only this, she'd also apparently signed Naboo to the movement of Count Dooku.

Sola put a hand to her forehead and sighed, "It's so unlike her, mum…why would she suddenly give in? She's worked so long and hard for the Loyalist committee – she wouldn't just give up, not after so long. I know Padmé better than that!"

"We all do, Sola…and, at the moment, I'm not sure who to believe. Rumours and slander are all over the press, and there's no way to tell the fact from the fiction until the Monarchy gives an official statement about what is going on. At the moment, it seems that even they don't know what's happening."

"It's just not plausible at all," Sola continued, walking to her daughters and sitting by Ryoo's side, "I know she'd be displeased about this rushed creation of an army, but surely that one thing wouldn't make her move to the separatists – especially not without talking it through with everyone first! Padmé wouldn't sign away the planet without asking the Queen!"

Jobal shook her head again, at an equal loss as to explain the goings on. It all seemed so strange.

"Something must have happened, mum. If Padmé's really signed some Separatist papers, then she must have had no choice – what if she's in danger, mum? What if-?"

"Oh, please, Sola, don't say such things…" Jobal asked her daughter, compassionately yet firmly; she couldn't bare to think of her daughter being in danger – she'd hoped that all of this peril had ended for Padmé when the blockade, some ten years ago, had subsided, but that had seemed to have been far from the end of things.

She sighed, lowering her head onto her hand briefly before turning to her daughter with a troubled look and saying quietly, "We just have to pray we hear word from her soon. We just have to pray…"

**TBC…**

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**NB:** Lil tributes to Christopher Lee & family, and also to the name given to Dooku by 'Sinister Papaya Fondue' in her fanfic, in the text. Not sure whether you've spotted them or not. ^_^

  


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[1] Okay, I'll be amazed if anyone knows those words; it's from a book I've been recently reading, a favourite of mine, concerning a character Christopher Lee has actually played in a film adaptation of said novel. I've reworded it slightly, that's all, but it's a fine phrase that I had to use.

[2] Okay, check this out concerning Vosa from the Star Wars Databank: _"__Thus, it came as a betrayal that Dooku eventually denied her the chance to undergo the trials to achieve Knighthood. Dooku and others had noticed a growing infatuation in the young girl for her accomplished Master. This and other instabilities in her character prompted the Jedi Council to end her training". _Sounds like me, the 'growing infatuation' and the 'instabilities' bits! LOL! And I made up Sato as a Padawan.


	13. Desperation

**Author's Notes**: I've decided to have a go at starting an 'Eclipse' fan listing because I've been quite overwhelmed by the support I've been getting for my story over here at FF.Net; in order to make it work, though, I'll need your help, so if anyone has any suggestions of what they'd like to see on a fan listing website for this fic, please tell me in either your review or in an email – for example, would you like to read my notes, have spoilers, see my rough fan art? Would you like a page to post your own reviews, or to submit your own ideas or suggestions for future chapters? Please get back to me ASAP so that I can sort it out – if I get this site going, remember, it's for you guys, not for me! I have 4 weeks and counting to get it up and running!

Apologies for the delay of this chapter, too – I'm in the middle of my exam period at school, so things are hectic, and I need to work hard for these exams because they could mean my getting into university or not! But I still managed to crank this up to well over 6000 words! Enough compensation for you? I've tried my best to spell check it, but again, I can't guarantee that everything will be perfectly spelt, or even for that matter make sense! ^_~

Anyway, thanks again for your support, guys, and see you all around! - **Jurious**

**PadawanMage:** Too right 'Frank' is too obvious! And, no offence to the great man or his parents, but I hate the name! 0_o Heh. And as far as Jinn goes, he may pop up…though I'm not saying in person, maybe just in name. ^_^ I'll see where my writing takes me. And the novel I referred to before wasn't 'The Last Unicorn', though good guess – I'll give you a clue as to what it is: the number 3. ^_~ Heh.

**Strider's Girl:** I've just come up with a good scene between Ani and Dooku, but it could take me several chapters to get there – and even then it won't be the ultimate 'butt-kicking' that you want – not yet!

**Diabla:** Thankyou! u_u You flatter me! I admit, even I sat there blinking after I wrote the infamous Chapter 9 – but after 5 drafts and constant re-workings, what can you expect? ^_~ It's original, if nothing else! And I'm so glad that you're enjoying my story – I'm enjoying writing it, despite its warped-ness, and hope that I can continue to entertain you all!

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine, okay? I'm just playing with it for a while! I'll put it all back where I found it once I've finished! ^_^

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 13**

**S**tars twinkled in the serene, dark sky above; Padmé had never seen such vivid stars on any world except Naboo and Tatooine, sparsely populated planets where the illuminations of overcrowded, urbanised cities hadn't drained away the beauty of the dark. She sighed heavily, sat out on the steps of the veranda at the rear of the mansion; the stars used to soothe her as a child, used to inspire her and leave her in awe. She was hoping for them to work this same kind of magic on her now, to calm her ravaged, anxious body. But it wasn't working; she'd been sat here for well over three hours now, since the twilight had succumbed to full nightfall, waiting for some kind of relief or solace to wash over her. Her perseverance in this humble matter was now starting to wane – the wind had become chill, and the strange howls of unseen creatures were starting to emit eerily from the darkened, distant woods. Yet she felt more comfortable being out here than being within the walls of the manor; she felt claustrophobic in there, and very, very alone.

As she exhaled, she saw her breath briefly hang in a pale mist before her mouth; the temperature had indeed dropped. She hugged herself tightly, shuddering in the cool; she was again clad in her white jumpsuit, having no change of clothing with her; it didn't accommodate her need for insulation well on this planet, which had an atmosphere completely unlike both Geonosis and Tatooine, the other planets on which she'd worn it recently.

She'd lost track of time today; she felt numb and empty. She was so upset, so lost, that she was beyond tears now. All day, she'd moped about the gardens, breathing in the fresh air, and watching the equines in the far paddocks of the estate go ignorantly and apathetically about their simple lives, chomping away at the grass and trotting about the fields.

_Clank. Clank. Clank_.

Padmé's heart jumped suddenly as she heard the steady and ominously familiar approach of heavy action boots against the permacrete behind her. She swallowed, her pulse racing and the hairs standing erect on the back of her neck; she didn't have to turn to know who was there.

The entity halted behind her, out of her view, yet she felt the enormity of his presence, a solid mass of dread that profoundly weighed down her heart; she felt sick – she didn't know what to do, or how to react, or anything!

"Will you not come indoors, milady?" Dooku asked her mildly, now returned from his day's venture, "It is getting cold out here."

She shook her head, her eyes glaring forward, her mind a flutter; her movements were jumpy and stunted. She never usually succumbed to nervousness, but she couldn't help it now; "I'd rather stay here, thanks," she hastily and fretfully replied. She hugged herself tighter in a subconsciously protective gesture, keeping her eyes on the skies above; her stomach was doing somersaults – Dooku was acting as though all was well. Was it? Or was he covering up what she thought may have transpired yesterday, at this similar hour?

"I insist that you come indoors," he pressed. 

Padmé heard him take a step toward her, then stop again. She resolved to hold her position – but she didn't know whether her inaction was out of strength or an immobilising fear.

"I like it out here, on my own," she stuttered quickly, "It gives me a chance to think."

" _'Think?'_ " he asked, his tone seeming trusting and accommodating; he slowly stepped round to her side and sat by her on the step, "About what?"

Padmé inhaled sharply, and shuffled along the wall away from him, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes, or have him so close to her, "Things…" she rejoined bluntly, her voice thin and taut.

The Count opted not to pursue her down the wall; he sat perfectly still, at complete ease, and gazed up to the heavens with a bemused smiled, " _'Things'_ is a bland word, my dear," he replied calmly.

Padmé stole a brief glance at him whilst his eyes searched the glittering stars above; he seemed so relaxed, almost hospitable – but she didn't trust him at all. She never would trust him again; he'd betrayed her too many times already.

She turned away again as he leisurely glanced back to her; she knew she should be asking him things, standing up for herself, doing _something_, but she couldn't – she just couldn't.

His eyes studied her meticulously in the ensuing silence; she felt uncomfortable, and half wished that she had gone indoors, and locked herself in her room. She suddenly wondered whether she could get far if she upped and ran off over the grounds now, toward the woods, but, besides that being a reckless notion that only panic could inspire, she was certain that the Count would have some way of holding her back; infact, she wouldn't be surprised if he could even run faster than her and catch her effortlessly.

"You're shaking," he said after the pause.

She inhaled deeply, and forced her head about to look at him; he didn't look menacing, he barely looked threatening, and he just stared at her openly. And she was trembling – she hadn't really noticed it until now.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked her in a low tone.

She frowned, unsure of his angle, and found herself inching further away from him.

He smirked at her, shaking his head a little in a discreet gesture to himself; "If you're not afraid, then you're merely cold. I ask you again to come indoors."

"You go in," she suddenly insisted, "I'm perfectly happy out here. I'm sure catching a cold would much more affect a man of _your_ age."

His smirk widened, and he chuckled benignly under his breath, "Oh, but of course… I am a vulnerable old soul, aren't I? I ought to take care of my poor self."

He was mocking her but in a perfectly amiable way. And that made her really uncomfortable.

He rose to his feet, "Please, my lady, come inside."

"I don't want to," she retorted obstinately, looking away across the fields, draped in an inky blackness, "You can go in, but I don't wish to. Not yet."

He sighed softly, then said, "As you wish, milady," bowing to her before turning about and re-entering his home. Padmé breathed ruggedly, wondering what that had all been about; at least he had gone, which was a massive relief to her. However, her own stubbornness meant that she was sat out in the cold, and despite her wish to be warm, she refused to follow the Count back into his manor yet.

**D**ooku paced down the hallway from the veranda, having silently shut the door onto the porch behind him; he ran his hand back over his hair, before walking steadily on down the corridor, this one lit by dimly glowing lamps, mounted upon the walls. It wasn't long before he came across Bhade in the hallway.

"Won't the young lady come in, sir?" he asked him, propping up a broom on the wall, having just given parts of the ground floor a good sweep.

Serenn shook his head, "No, she won't. She'll come in eventually, though."

"She'll have to unless she wants to freeze, sir," Bhade added dryly.

The Count walked onward languidly, still half within his own thoughts; Bhade tagged on behind him, taking his broom back up in his hand, "Does she strike you as being unwell at all, sir?" he continued.

Serenn's eyes glanced to Bhade briefly, his brow slightly knotting, "A little…" he mused.

"You see, sir, she's been quite – what's the word? – er, '_listless'_ today; she's wandered about the grounds, spoken very little, even when I've tried to make general conversation with her, and –"

"Your point, Bhade?"

"Well, sir, I guess I'm just a little concerned for the poor girl. She is our guest after all, and it is our duty to make sure she's comfortable."

"She's a fully grown woman, and a politician at that; I'm sure she can take care of both herself and her own affairs," Dooku retorted sharply.

"Perhaps you're right, sir…" Bhade dithered, stopping in his tracks, and holding his broom tightly before him. 

Serenn halted and wheeled about, "I'm going to do some training for a while, Bhade. If you see your wife before I do, tell her to have breakfast ready smartly tomorrow morning for both myself and our guest; I've heard from all but the blasted Trade Federation, and I need to have a swift meeting as early as possible, and get things rolling again."

"Oh, of course, sir," he nodded obediently, "And be careful not to tear your wounds in your exercises, sir. I know I shouldn't dictate to you, but they're nasty things."

There was a brief pause.

"You're right," Serenn then agreed placidly; Bhade nodded gently in response, assuming his advice had been heeded, but suddenly, as the Count stepped passed him, he added menacingly, "You _shouldn't_ dictate to me."

*******************************************************************************************

**O**bi-Wan frowned as he entered the Jedi Training hall – he'd left Anakin there several hours earlier, having found him training hard and in want of his own company (all of which was understandable, in Kenobi's opinion; Anakin had lost his arm in combat and needed to redeem his confidence and prove himself _to_ himself again) but he had hadn't, however, bargained on finding his Padawan still training hard when he returned some hours later, with his arm still causing him obvious discomfort.

"Anakin," Kenobi said, walking into the large, empty chamber, hands clasped beneath his Jedi robes, "What are you still doing here?" 

Many Padawans and their Jedi mentors had been here earlier, taking part in their own lessons, but besides the young Chosen One, the hall was now completely empty and becoming dark, with only the light of Anakin's training sabre adding anything of a faint glow to its shadowy corners.

Anakin didn't seem to hear Kenobi; either that or he just decided to ignore him. Holding the training sabre tight in his hand, he continued to push on with his exercises, putting his body through many tight and difficult manoeuvres, which seemed unsettlingly close to the basics of Form II combat – but that was not Kenobi's worry at the moment.

Obi paced right up to his apprentice, realising that he'd need to take a firmer approach with the boy, and grabbed his metallic arm securely in his hand, "Anakin!" he barked at him, hoping that he would take notice of what he was saying in closer range.

Ani halted abruptly, his fiery eyes sparking as he jolted them round to face his master, "What?" he snapped in return, irritated by the interference of his Jedi tutor.

Obi felt himself hesitate, and paused for a moment, shocked by the sheer veracity of his Padawan's response; loosening his grip on Anakin's arm, he dropped his hand to his side, and went on in a much more soft and gentle voice, "Anakin, it's very late; you've been training all day – please, give it a rest."

Anakin stared hard at his master, "I'm not tired – I want to train some more," he replied blandly, his voice a stern monotone.

"You need rest, Anakin," Kenobi insisted, patting the young man on the shoulder briefly, "You need to allow your body to recuperate some more – bacta may be able to heal my injuries in but a few hours, but it can't work wonder for new limbs of the likes of yours. Please be sensible – go and get some well needed rest."

Anakin's eyes bore increasingly harder into his master's; inhaling deeply, he repeated adamantly, "I **want** to **train**." He then turned away from his master, no question in his tone, and went on with his sabre practise.

Kenobi felt a deep frustration wind up within him – he couldn't control Anakin anymore, and he didn't know what to do or how to deal with it; "Dooku didn't become one of our greatest swordsmen overnight you know," he affirmed loudly toward his unruly protégé; Anakin halted as suddenly as he'd started again, and wheeled about to face his mentor – Obi-Wan had targeted, with fine precision, the source of the Padawan's frustration and the impetus for his strenuous training; "Don't think that _you'll_ become one overnight, because you won't," Obi added.

Anakin swung his sabre out to his left in an angry gesture, "Thanks for your confidence in me, _master_," he hissed, his eyes telling of the hurt he felt at such a rebuking remark.

Kenobi sighed with exasperation, "Anakin, _please_ forget him!" he implored – he was only telling Anakin these things because he cared for him; he was worried about this fire of blind determination that had suddenly engulfed his protégé's mind, and hoped that he could cool it before it grew into an uncontrollable conflagration, "You won't be able to defeat him anytime soon…"

"You're wrong!" Anakin retorted rapidly, to Kenobi's surprise; Obi-Wan had expected, or rather hoped to have gotten something of a compromise from his Padawan now, but it would seem that the fire within him had already grown beyond the boundaries of that civil sentiment. 

"I'll show you all! You're all _wrong_!" Anakin went on certainly, before then storming away again into a frightening fit of incredible flips and somersaults, whizzing over the floor at an incredible and anger-driven speed, his lightsabre a blue blur in his capable hands; he wouldn't stop until he wanted to, and Kenobi knew that he could do nothing to stop him; all he'd managed to do was further excite and enrage his physically and mentally wounded apprentice.

"And why should I rest?" the boy screamed on, glancing to his master once with his ravaged eyes as he danced across the room, "I can't sleep, anyway – you know I don't sleep well – I may as well be training."

"Have you not _tried_ sleeping?" Kenobi replied, keeping his voice hush in order not to further enliven his already agitated student, "I mean, your mother –"

"It's **not** about my mother that I now dream!" Anakin shouted, throwing down his lightsabre and turning to Kenobi harshly, seeming to have expected Obi-Wan to know such a fact; he strode across the floor back toward his teacher, a look of pure incensement on his visage, "It's about Padmé."

Obi continued to keep his cool; he lightly folded his arms over his chest, rejoining with. "Didn't you once say that you'd _rather_ dream about Padmé?"

Anakin looked offended, and turned away, scoffing, "Don't be so cruel, master! I didn't want to dream about her like _this_!"

A frown knitted Kenobi's brow slowly; he regarded his troubled Padawan with further anxiety, the anger and torment evidently bottled within him not being an encouraging sign at all.

Anakin walked up to his mentor, and fixed him with another hard glare, "Do you know how I saw her last time I dreamt?" he growled, his voice jumpy with a deep-set grief and anguish, "Do you know who I saw her with and what he was doing? _Do you_?"

Obi-Wan paused again, remaining quiet for a long moment, before he slowly shook his head, and whispered hoarsely in reply, "No, Anakin, I don't."

"Then I'll tell you, master," Anakin said austerely, "It was with _him_ that I saw her, that Separatist bastard, and if you'd have seen what I had, then you'd know that we need to get Padmé back as soon as possible – she's _not_ safe with him!"

"Anakin, don't get me wrong," Obi quickly rejoined, "I don't want anything bad to befall Padmé, either, but –"

"It's too late, master!" Ani interrupted vehemently, "We've been too slow already! If you'd just have let me go before I could have saved her from _him_ by now!"

"You're talking nonsense, Anakin! Besides the fact that you couldn't have gone anywhere before in your current state of health – and you still shouldn't be going anywhere now – and, also, besides the fact that you haven't got a clue where Count Dooku is at the moment – who I presume is this 'bastard' of which you uncouthly speak – you don't even _know_ if what you are 'seeing' is current and true! You've been through a lot lately – the mind can play tricks on one."

Anakin shook his head with an utmost confidence in his abilities, "You don't understand, master; I **know** that what I saw happened. When I dreamt about my mother, I left it too late to save her – I didn't act quick enough – but, mark my words, I _do not_ plan to leave it too late to save Padmé…my senses are telling me that she needs help, and I will help her, I promise you."

The mad determination that was burning in Anakin's eyes and voice was unsettling for Kenobi – he shook his head discreetly to himself, not having a clue how to calm the boy down, or how to help him resolve his problems – he wouldn't find Padmé easily, and what he planned to do when he _did_ find her, he didn't even want to think about – Obi-Wan just hoped that his protégé wasn't daft enough to just run blindly, without any plan or strategy, back into the grasping hold of Count Dooku; if he planned to do so, then he'd more than likely come away without his other arm. 

That is, if he came away at all.

"I want to save Padmé, too, Anakin," Kenobi repeated quietly, not wanting to seem the villain to his protégé, "But she has made a decision to join the Separatist forces. I know that she's in the wrong place, and that she should be back here with the Republic, but we have a wider scope of people to think about now. We're protectors of the peace, and cannot put the lives of the entire population of the Republic on the line for the sake of one life of another person, no matter how much we may care for that person. We're at war, Anakin – I'm sorry, but that's how it is."

"But she needs our help," Anakin pressed assertively, "I can't sit back and let her suffer under the…the…_assaults _of that man; master, I _must_ help her!"

"Look what happened when the two of you tried to rescue me," Obi reminded him, pointing a hard finger at him sharply, "Everything went wrong!"

"At least we cared enough to try," Ani hissed, tightening his metal, right hand into a tight fist, the joints whirring in their own mechanical way.

Kenobi looked at Anakin carefully, feeling unfairly treated – he did care, but things weren't as simple as Anakin wanted them to be; he shook his head and was about to turn away and leave Anakin to simmer in his own juices, when his protégé suddenly asked, "And why didn't you tell me before about Dooku? I thought I could trust you."

Obi-Wan frowned, "Excuse me?" he asked quietly, stopping in his tracks.

"Dooku," Anakin repeated, "He was Master Qui-Gon's tutor, wasn't he?"

Kenobi frowned – he wasn't sure how Anakin had come by this information; "Yes, he was," he replied openly, "Is it a problem that you haven't been told?"

"It's not nice to keep secrets like that, master," Anakin continued sourly, "I'm almost related to that man and you never once told me – you never once mentioned that he had trained Master Jinn, even when the Separatist movement first gained momentum and that man's name appeared all over the holoproj' news networks; you never once mentioned it."

"Anakin, I don't like it either," Kenobi admitted, "But Dooku trained my master, and he trained him well. The reason I don't like it now is because the Count has betrayed his past, and I never thought he would. He's disappointed me."

"He's disgusted me!" Anakin snarled, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was better that you didn't know – what good is it to tell a Padawan that one of their grand-masters left the Order because he didn't believe in the Republic that this same Padawan is being raised to serve? It's not a good influence, and I never thought it necessary. In fact, I didn't even think you'd mind not knowing."

"Well you were wrong!" he assured his mentor, "You were wrong."

"It wouldn't have helped keep Padmé on our side, anyway, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied with his own degree of confidence, "She's done what she's done out of her own free will, as I've already said, and there's little we can do about it right now. The fact that Qui-Gon was a charge of Dooku is of no consequence at all to the current matters at hand."

Anakin couldn't believe the composure of his mentor toward this matter – of course Jinn's being Dooku's apprentice was important – it meant that the teachings of that man had passed down to him – and of course they could do something to save Padmé – they had to! If Kenobi had only seen what he had in his dreams, then the former pupil of Qui-Gon would understand – if Obi only knew how much Padmé needed them, then he'd agree to go and help her, Anakin was certain.

Obi-Wan could see that Anakin had withdrawn into his own thoughts for a moment or two, and, seeing as though he wasn't getting anywhere with the boy, he thought that now would be a good time to leave and let Anakin be alone again; he knew that he'd probably only dig himself a deeper hole by trying to improve the matter, and staying longer with him in fruitless conversation, "Anakin, just please do as your told this time," he asked him as calmly as he could, exasperated by the way the Padawan was being, "And things may actually turn out for the better."

He turned about and slowly left the boy alone; Anakin made no verbal response to his mentor, and let him go, tiring of his company. 

Kenobi sighed once he exited the chamber, and put a hand to the wall outside, exhaling hard; he had a real bad feeling about the way things were going, and he had the sudden impulse to run to his master for help.

_'The boy is dangerous. They all sense it, why can't you?'_

But his master wasn't there anymore.

_'His fate is uncertain – and he isn't dangerous'_

He wasn't there.__

***********************************************************************************************

**P**admé had finally decided to return into the manor – the temperature had become severely low outside, and she didn't fancy being out in it all night. Now, she slowly and despondently made her way back toward her chamber – or at least she tried to; the mansion was proving an intimidating maze for her in these darkening hours, and without having got her bearings around this terrible place, she found herself lost somewhere on the ground floor. All she was looking for was a staircase to the first floor, but she couldn't seem to find one anywhere – she thought she'd come back the way she'd originally gone, but she obviously was in error there.

'How hard can it be to find a stairway?' she kept asking herself, pacing gently about the multitude of deserted halls. And, just to add to the convenience, the two servants of the Count, who she'd seen constantly on-and-off all day, weren't around anywhere, just when she really needed them.

She sighed, shaking her heavy, tired head, continuing to walk aimlessly down another faceless corridor; passageways seemed to just spiral off from everywhere in all directions, and she had a deep set feeling that, every time she gambled to take another passage off to one of her sides, she was taking herself only deeper into the heart of this treacherous labyrinth.

As she walked, her thoughts could do nothing to console her loneliness and trepidation – they only kept returning to the subject of the Count, the subject that had haunted her mind all day since she'd first awoken; she was trying not to panic, and trying to just keep her cool – if she didn't, she knew that she risked never finding a way out of this dilemma that so thickly fogged her thoughts.

But had something happened? Had something _really_ happened?

She inhaled deeply, running a hand over one of her shoulders, and flinched as she felt the tender skin beneath her clothing – it was covered in contusions, a mark left by Dooku's consistently tight grasping of her yesterday. Part of her hated Serenn so badly that it frightened her…yet another part, the intimidated part, told her to stay low and not to mess with him – and she almost believed that part; this man – old in age, but not at all in physicality – had easily felled Obi-Wan and Anakin in battle; had he 'felled' her as equally easily?

She swallowed; she really felt certain that something had transpired, but if it had, then why? What sick, twisted vantage would he have gained from committing such indecency?

It was a good point – why would he? And even _could_ he? Surely a man of his age, of such high birth, and who had been raised by such an Order as the Jedi, wouldn't have the capacity to do anything of the likes she suspected? He had little to gain by doing such, didn't he? Why should he do anything so extreme? Perhaps she was mistaken…

_'You know he's done something, Padmé, stop trying to deny it – stop trying to pretend that everything's all right'_ she told herself; her eyes were too fatigued from crying to swell any more at the moment. The fact that she felt so certainly that something serious had transpired really made her feel uneasy, and believe that her thoughts weren't unfounded. But she had no proof; she couldn't even remember anything clearly – except entering the bedroom. And entering the bedroom with him, at that.

She sighed again, feeling a deeply nauseous sensation in the pit of her stomach; she was helpless, and had no evidence to back her suspicions, and no friends to help her console her fears. What could she do?

Before she could think any further (and having walked quite a distance whilst being occupied with her own thoughts), she suddenly stopped, her attention grasped by the unanticipated sound of a lightsabre, echoing from down the far reaches of the hallway in which she now stood.

_'Thrum – Thrum – Thrum – Clash – Thrum'_

For some reason unknown to her, she began to pick up her pace, not stopping at all to think about exactly what she was doing; reason and common sense were taking a brief leave of absence from her mind.

The sound got louder as she trotted down the hall; she passed several doors on both sides of her, and even the odd ancient suit of armour, displayed at infrequent intervals. It didn't take her long to reach the end of the passage. Corridors at the passage's extremity only stretched out to the left or the right, a wall with a window looking out over the Dooku estate now being in front of her. She listened – the sound was coming from the left side corridor – so, still without any contemplation or rationale, she continued on her trail, taking this corridor and following it back into the darkness that now engulfed the manor in the late hours of the day. The passageway became narrow, the illuminations sparse, and the sounds increased in volume, saturating the air around Padmé with their surmounting hum.

She swallowed, apprehension finally beginning to effervesce in her blood – yet still she walked on, pacing lightly down the corridor, her eyes fixated on the now visible door at this hallway's end; the doorway was large, fitted with two doors, of which one was slightly ajar. It was unmistakable – she had definitely reached the room from which the sabre sounds emitted.

When she got to about a three metres distance from the doors, she finally stopped, and she swallowed; the sabre within the inner sanctum hummed and thrummed impatiently, being evidently put through varying intensities of combat manoeuvres, and slight flashes of red could be seen illuminating the otherwise dark walls within.

Padmé gathered her resolve and took a step toward the doors, before she then timidly peered her head around the open door's side, careful not to reveal herself to the individual within; the chamber inside was even more pitch black than she'd first imagined, and looked most menacing in the simple and barely sufficient glow of the red light, emitting from the single, ignited sabre in the room; this was held by the unmistakable form of the Count.

A large, hovering, spherical droid whizzed at an incredible speed about the area, attempting to, at random moments, infiltrate the dark warrior's defences, and zap him with a laser pellet; he was clearly training.

The large chamber itself seemed, from what Padmé could see (which, giving the poor lighting, was very little), mostly empty, with but a few benches and beams shoved to the room's side, and all the windows blacked out by exceptionally dark blinds.

Padmé's attention returned to Dooku; she looked at him hard – he held his sabre tightly before him, effortlessly parrying the laser fire that the training probe showered upon him. His forehead and bare chest glistened with sweat as he moved fluently across the floor, his bare feet pattering over the wooden floorboards. The sabre illuminated the large gash on his chest, that had been inflicted by Anakin, in a gruesome splendour, and showed that his face, though resolutely set, was displaying signs of injury within – despite the fact that he was training hard now, he was still evidently suffering from his battle wounds.

The hovering droid swerved about and behind him, shooting several blows toward his back. Padmé watched the maddened concentration in Serenn's eyes as he swung his sabre behind him, teeth tightly clenched, and deflected the blows, before flipping backwards away from the robot. He landed low like a nexu on his feet and hands, but shuddered at his knees, some hidden, internal wounds markedly bothering him.

Thoughts of what to do filled Padmé's head as she studied him – he was weak, she could surely do something in order to allow her to escape, or just to get some form of word to Anakin that she was all right. 

Escape? What was she thinking? She'd joined the Separatists, and signed Naboo over to them – the Republic surely wouldn't want to see her face any time soon. She just hadn't bargained on ending up in a situation like this…

She vacillated, glancing down at her feet.

Dooku meanwhile, oblivious to her presence, rolled forward and leapt up into an uppercut, successfully and mercilessly bisecting the training droid, before landing back on his feet once again. His back was stinging and his shoulder wound broke under the pressure of his exertions, seeping fresh blood to its surface. He breathed heavily to quell his oxygen debt, putting his free hand to his damaged chest whilst he let the other hand, still clutching his curved sabre, droop by his side.

Padmé once again looked over at him, his back facing her, covered in a horrific pattern of repulsive bruises, which showed even through the dull light. Turning her eyes away from him, she spotted close to her, tucked under a nearby bench, a couple of plain sabre hilts, laying by a water bottle and the Count's shirt. Suddenly and rashly, a wild notion sprung forth into her mind, and she ran her tongue lightly across her lower lip in thought – it would be a foolish idea to try and play Dooku at a game that he knew so well, wouldn't it?

Her eyes shot back to him – he was tired and injured; she may manage to sneak up on him, and then –

And then what? And to what avail? What would she do to him, exactly? 'Padmé + Lightsabre' wasn't the most conventional of equations, and the Force knew what the result would be with 'Dooku' added; desperation was taking a firm hold of her and depriving her of her usual rationality. But she felt so _angry_ with him – she felt so violated, so used and abused, and the more she thought about what she was certain had transpired, the more her hand ached to clutch one of the cool, metallic cylinders that lay near by, and run the Count through with one of their bright laser-blades. She had to do something – she had to stick up for herself; this hadn't been in the contract of the Treaty she'd signed.

She made her next move, and crept round the door of the chamber, crawling along the room's edge under the cover of its inky, black shadows. Crouching down, barely making a sound, she reached out and grasped one of the weapons, and lifted it up in her hand; the hilt was cool and smooth – merely holding it sent a feeling of supremacy and control rushing round her veins. She'd always wanted to hold a lightsabre, just to see what it was like, and now that she held one, and considered the immense, fatal power that lurked within it, the skill that was required to use it and the immense responsibility a wielder of this type of weapon bore, she realised exactly why the weapon was regarded so highly by all in the galaxy. Raising the sabre hilt up close to her eyes so that she could make out enough of it in the darkness to determine one end from the other, she clutched it tightly, with more fear than anything, and twisted the handle the right way up in her grasp, before then slowly beginning to pace toward the stationary, flagging form of Serenn in the hall's centre.

She felt her heart tear away at an incredible speed, feeling its incessant, powerful beating within her breast. Her hand was sweating, causing her grip on the weapon to loosen; she kept switching hands and overturning the sabre handle delicately and silently in her palms, hoping that the Count wouldn't hear her before she got to him. Still, it seemed, Dooku's own heavy breaths drowned out her own respiration, and he failed to realise that anything was amiss in the chamber; his head was cast down before him, his red sabre still hung by his side; the entire scene was splashed with its red glow, adding a hellish and dramatic effect to the whole scenario.

Padmé reached a steady halfway point in her trek up behind the elder man, her body beginning to shudder, her grip becoming so lubricated with sweat that she had to use both hands to keep the weapon within her hold, and she suddenly realised that she hadn't a clue what she was going to do – should she merely injure him? Take off his arm, or leg? He did take off Anakin's limb after all; measure for measure.

Her finger fidgeted over the weapon's activation switch as she stepped closer and closer to the Count; she saw vivid, scarlet blood trickle down his left arm from his broken shoulder wound, highlighted to further gruesome lengths by the crimson lighting. His back, now that she was closer, looked frightfully painful, a proof that the strengths of the diminutive Master Yoda should never be underestimated; his back was decorated with more than mere bruises, though – it would seem that he had many a dreadful scar impeded within his flesh, wounds from battles past, his skin telling stories of the brutal life he seemed to have led. 

Perhaps he deserved them all. 

Angling the sabre up toward his left arm (with no thoughts crossing her mind as to why she shouldn't go for his right arm, with which he held his weapon, an error which told of her erratic state of mind), she inhaled profoundly, yet as silently as she could, before closing her eyes and pushing down on the weapon's activation switch…

In the space of the ensuing second, many things happened: a blue blade shot out of Padmé's sabre hilt and plunged towards the Count's shoulder; sensing both her intrusion and the sudden danger that he was in, Dooku simultaneously wheeled about to face her, pelting his red blade into hers, and sending her weapon flying, whilst forcing Padmé herself to plummet down harshly onto the floor. He then recalled her airborne sabre to his free hand with the power of the Force, locked the two blades he now held over one-another like a giant pair of shears, and, finally, swiftly enveloped her neck in their deadly maw as she lay helpless before him.

After the brief pandemonium, a long pause ensued in which neither said anything; they froze in their positions, both of their chests rising and falling heavily, their eyes locked firmly onto one another. Padmé once again heard her heart pounding in her ears; the warmth of the blades that enclosed about her throat was intense, the beams of deadly, pulsating energy but millimetres away from her exposed skin; any touch would undoubtedly prove fatal. She hardly dared to move, to breathe, or to even swallow in fear that she could cut short her own life by doing so.

She closed her eyes, already feeling the pangs of regret seep into her fluttering, confused mind. The Count now held her life in his firm hands, the lightsabres ready to respond to whatever whim he may have. 

The moment seemed to draw out into a lifetime, and, after a while, Padmé felt the need to peel back her eyelids once again; her pupils were filled with dread as she returned her sights to the unwavering Count. Small beads of sweat made their leisurely way down his chest, reflecting shards of the sabres' illumination as they traversed the rises of his torso, having a freedom that Padmé envied desperately at the moment. She felt herself damp with sweat, more from her nerves than her exertions; her breaths picked up pace again, this wait becoming insufferable.

Then, finally, Serenn showed signs of life, "One might say that that was either incredibly brave…" he rasped in a gravely, cold tone, his eyes concentrated and strong; stepping closer to her prostrate form, he glided the mouth of his sabre-shears up over the rim of her neck and encompassed the space just below her jaw within their lethal hold, "Or _very_ stupid," he then added. He watched as Padmé tilted her head back in an attempt to avoid the blades, her heart racing under the excruciating pressure of the situation.

The throbbing beat of the sabres' humming, now so close to her chin that it was petrifying, merged into the thudding of Padmé's heart, and together created an intimidating melody, which echoed and pulsed mercilessly down her ear canals. She closed her eyes yet again, cringing in anguish, hating the vice and cruelty of this man, who was putting her through so much. 

She was beginning to wonder exactly what she had been planning to do anyway in this situation with a weapon that she couldn't comprehend, let alone handle, when suddenly, everything went quiet, and the room went dark; Dooku had deactivated the lightsabres, much to Padmé's relief. She could only hear her own respiration, a peace seeming to have now arisen in the void around her, and a cold and empty one at that. Her sweat felt chill on her skin, her head was swimming, and she felt extremely sick. Tentatively deciding to open her eyes once more, feeling her body quaking uncontrollably and her breaths emerging hoarsely from her dry, parched throat, Padmé could just about make out the form of Serenn, still stood before her, from her position on the floor; he was marked only by a hazy line of light that trickled in vainly through the slightly ajar door, through which she had originally entered.

She was curious as to why he hadn't said anything else to her, but didn't have time to dwell on that fact; her head continued to foam violently with nausea and the darkness itself only added to her disorientation, and swiftly, before she knew what was going on, this darkness had taken her…

**TBC…**


	14. A Case of Delusion

**Author's Notes**: I've got my lil _Eclipse FanListing_ website up and running, so if any of you would like to support me in this twisted fanfic venture, pop over and have a gander – go to my profile, click on my homepage, **Imperial Palace**, then follow the link from the homepage to the Eclipse subdomain (I'd put the URL here, but FF.Net blocks them out!) 

I still need more suggestions for what you guys want to see on the site, so send them to me if you have any – I'm still working on the site's fan corner, but there are some reviews and chapter summaries up there already.

I've finished all my exams at school now, so thankyou for all your concern regarding those – they all went quite well if you don't count the first, evil maths paper! I just have to wait for my results in August now…

Re: Chapter 14 – I wasn't sure whether to include a scene with Gunray in here or not, but I wanted to get this chapter out to you before too long, so Gunray'll have to wait. I hope this chapter isn't too much heaviness and melodrama in a row – Gunray would have helped me break up the 'action' a bit, but you've come this far, so I'm sure you can cope! It's nothing too serious, don't get me wrong, just a bit of a 'domestic', if that's the right word! ^_^ Anyway, you'll tell me what you think, no doubt, at the end. I'm not completely satisfied with parts, but I'm a nitpicker – I'll just have to tell you if I decide to rewrite any parts of it later. ^_^

**Strider's Girl:** I've still got the fight scene planned – just got to get there first! And LotR fics? Well, I used to be wary of 'Star Wars' ones, but I feel that I know enough about 'Star Wars' to be comfortable with it – as much as I love LotR, writing a 'serious' type of fic, which I usually write, isn't easy unless I know my stuff; I don't currently have any ideas for a LotR fic anyway, but unless I know a bit more about all the lands and the timelines, I'd rather leave LotR alone. ^_^

**PadawanMage: **Going back to Naboo v. soon! And I'm glad you like Dooku – he is a nasty piece of work, isn't he? And I have read '_Splinter of the Mind's Eye'_, but not for a good 5 years – I can't remember Leia taking on Vader at all, I'm afraid, but it's kinda freaky if it had parallels with what I wrote – I'll have to find a copy and re-read it some time and see for myself. I don't think my story is going to 'reflect' the relationships there, though! And exams went well, thanks!

**Bexmix:** First '_Splinter of the Mind's Eye'_, then Rhett Butler? 0_o What's going on in my story? LOL. I can see your point! I never noticed that parallel, either! Kinda funny really. And as far as Dooku _not_ killing Padmé goes, well, yeah, it would ruin the story, and regardless of whether he's growing fond of her or not, (paraphrasing a certain bounty hunter here) '_she's no good to him dead_'. ^_~

**SKYwalker-blue:** Anakin's yours, is he? I'm sure you'll have a bit of competition regarding that claim! LOL. Well, Ani's having a bit of a mad rush – can you blame the poor guy? And there's little comic relief in this part…hence why I considered a Gunray-interlude. Mind you, I haven't used ol' Poggle for a while, either! So much to think about!

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. 0_o 'nuff said.

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 14**

"**O**h, my word, sir!  Is she all right?"

"She's fainted…she'll come around. Help me get her into her room and make her comfortable, will you, Edna?"

"Oh, of course, sir…"

Mrs. Tarso led the way as Serenn carried Padmé's lame form in his arms down further nameless halls of his home; the young Nubian was completely limp, her limbs hanging weightily over Dooku's cradling hold, her eyes half open, but completely unfocused; she was utterly lifeless. Her head rested against the Count's chest, nodding in motion with every step he took. He made sure to hold her tightly to him, not risking letting her fall from his clutches.

"She's been delusional all day, sir," Edna explained as they reached the young senator's temporary quarters; the servant opened the door, and let Dooku step in first, before then following behind him. 

Serenn strode over to the room's bed and lay Padmé down gently upon it, resting her head onto the pillow; "Really?" he asked quietly, his voice low key; he looked over young Amidala's motionless form carefully whilst Edna rounded the other side of the bed and propped the young woman's head further up on the pillow, making sure that she was as comfortable as possible; "Oh yes, poor dear," the old lady continued, "She earlier complained of a headache and sickness…but I think that she's just in shock. '_Just'_? Oh, listen to me! What am I saying?"

Serenn didn't take his eyes off Padmé, and gently put his fingers to her neck, feeling for the throb of her jugular artery; she was ash white in complexion, all colour gone from her visage, and her breaths were shallow and quick, just like her faint pulse. Her brow was dotted with beads of cold sweat, too.

"Has the young lady no extra clothes, sir?" Edna queried once she was satisfied that Padmé was comfortable, "She could use some if she's staying long."

"I'll remember to collect some next time I'm fleeing a battle field, Edna," Dooku retorted wryly, looking up to her from under his brow.

"Oh, you know what I meant, sir," Edna rejoined light-heartedly, shaking her head in gesture and wafting a hand toward him; she glanced at Padmé's face and sighed, adding in a low tone, "You know, sir, she was asking me the strangest questions this morning…"

The glare of Serenn's eyes upon his servant intensified dramatically; "She was?" he asked calmly, his intrigue seized.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Tarso went on, smiling blithely to herself, "She was wondering where you'd been last night, bless her…I don't know what she'd been dreaming about. 'You were in your room' I said – it seemed to be all that she was interested in!"

The Count's eyes wandered away into space; subconsciously, he drew his hand down from Padmé's neck to her shoulder, and rested it there lightly.

"You _were_ in your room, weren't you, sir?" Edna asked him unobtrusively, just to verify her own words.

Dooku's head snapped back about to look at her, "Of course – where else should I have been?"

Edna nodded, "Exactly what I told her sir," she assented plainly, "Those battles must have really rattled the poor dear yesterday – dreadful things."

She swiftly turned about and walked over into the chamber's _en suite_, retrieved a small towel, then returned to the bedside, and gently gave Padmé's sweat-laden brow a wipe; "She's a beautiful young lady, sir," she said graciously.

"Yes…very beautiful," Serenn mused softly.

"I would never have believed that she was a politician if I hadn't have been told…" she went on affably, placing the towel down on a bedside unit.

"Looks can be deceiving, no?" Dooku remarked.

"Oh yes, very," Edna acquiesced again; she paused for a second before changing subjects, and inquiring, "And your wounds, sir, how are they doing?"

Serenn glanced to the line of dried blood that had broken from his shoulder wound during his exercises, then looked back to Mrs. Tarso, "Oh, they're nothing…" he replied indifferently, shaking his head, "What doesn't kill one makes one stronger. Or so they say."

Edna just nodded discreetly, not dwelling on his brief and unconcerned response – it was part of his nature, and she wasn't going to challenge him, "Shall I run the young lady a warm bath, sir?" she suggested, "It'll do her some good."

"If you would," he nodded as his eyes trailed back to the young senator's insentient form once more.

"Of course, sir," she said obediently, making her way back into the _en suite_ again, "Sorry to have to keep you here, sir. I can care for her if you wish – I'm sure you've got better things to do."

"No, it's fine," he replied, "She is my guest, after all."

"Oh, you are good sir," Edna called back to him from behind the door as she began to run the water.

The Count shook his head in a soft, discreet dismissal toward his servant, raising his hand and placing it upon Padmé's forehead, rubbing her temples gently with his thumb. Steadily, some colour seemed to return to her face, and the deepening of her breaths suggested that she might soon come round…

~~

**T**he shaaks lowed. The birds sang. The air was fresh and clear, the sky bright blue and the grass lush green; it was gorgeous.  Blades of vegetation lapped about her feet and brushed the frills of her yellow frock as Padmé ran up a rise in the meadow, watching Anakin attentively as he leapt aboard one of the portly shaaks in the distance with a triumphant whoop, using one of his impressive, Force-aided jumps. At first, everything was fine – he waved to her once he had managed to stand upright on the creature's back, and she laughed, the image a comical one, but, as soon as the creature realised that something was amiss, it began hurtling around in anxiety!

Anakin laughed again, enjoying the thrill and the danger of his stunt, and, in an attempt to further impress Padmé, tried his best to balance on the beast as it ran! Padmé shook her head in amusement – he looked like a circus performer! He held out his arms in a steadying manner, and placed his feet apart over the creature's back as he attempted to maintain his balance, his face a picture of smugness.

That was until the shaak gave an immense howl, and managed to throw Anakin off its back!

"Whoah!" Ani cried, tumbling down from his mount as the shaak reared wildly; he fell heavily onto the grassy tundra below with a deep _'oof'_ whilst the shaak, watching the trickster fall before its eyes, swiftly calmed down and returned to its passive grazing.

Anakin groaned, pushing himself up from the ground slowly, before collapsing back down completely into the grass again.

Padmé gasped in fright, "Ani!" she cried, bursting into a sprint toward him, uncaring for the damage she could do to her delicate frock – she prayed that he was all right; he shouldn't have ever got onto that creature!

"Anakin! Ani, are you all right?" she called over and over again, her voice getting increasingly louder and more troubled; she trotted with some difficulty over the uneven ground, stumbling toward the Padawan learner, "Anakin!" she exclaimed again.

She finally reached his inert body and fell to her knees beside him, putting her hands to his back and rolling him onto his front.

Suddenly, Anakin burst back to life, and laughed hysterically at her – he'd played a trick on her! He wasn't hurt at all!

Padmé shook her head in a combination of relief and good-natured annoyance, and slapped him hard on the chest whilst he chortled; she couldn't help but fall into a fit of laughter herself, however, and the two playfully embraced, rolling together over the pasture in one-another's arms. The relief of the moment meant so much to Padmé – Anakin allowed her to have fun and to laugh a little, which was something she needed so much with all the weight of current political affairs still riding heavily on her shoulders.

The two rolled to a halt down a grassy verge, and lay in each other's arms for a few moments, Padmé on top of Anakin, their laughs fading to mere smiles on their visages. Padmé looked down at Ani softly and stroked his hair backwards over his head with her hand; he pleasantly smiled in return, running his own fingers through her long, brunette locks that hung down over him, placing a few loose strands behind her ears.

"I love you," he divulged quietly, giving her a firm and honest glance.

Padmé gave him a knowing look in return, nodding in silence; her hand glided from his hair to his cheek, and stroked his smooth skin lovingly, before their mouths drew together and they dotingly kissed. She closed her eyes and embraced him tightly yet tenderly, their lips caressing one-another's whilst she let her hands explore his shoulders, and slide up his neck to his head. She affectionately fondled the fine, sleek hair that she found there, behind his ears, and –

…

Fine, sleek hair…?

Halting abruptly, Padmé steadily opened her eyes with an apprehensive uncertainty and slowly parted her mouth from the other's; her hand drew away, down his chest, as she rose up off of him – Anakin was no longer there, but Serenn was. She shook her head wildly, staring deep into the dark, mysterious eyes of Dooku, before pushing herself violently away from him; "_Noo_!" she screamed.

~~

"**_NOOO!!_**"

Padmé shot upright from the duvet beneath her, her body damp once more with a cold sweat, and careered straight into another's chest, her head slamming into his body strongly. The other grunted as he took the full force of her sudden start, quickly taking a firm grasp of her and holding her still so that she wouldn't hastily shift away again.

Padmé respired rapidly, remaining immobile for the time being, completely dazed and confused; she felt herself being held gently and supportively by the entity she had catapulted into, his hands clasped about her back.

"It's all right," the individual purred, "Calm yourself."

She swallowed, her eyes wide in fear and bewilderment, her body feeling unstable; she shakily placed her hands onto the other's chest, keeping as close to him as she could, waiting for some form of memory to emerge from the murky, unclear waters of her awareness; "Where am I?" she eventually whispered, feeling the other's hand run through the sweat-laden roots of her hair.

"Your room," he replied, drawing his hand away.

"How did I get here?" she queried, her brow furrowing.

"I carried you here," he said bluntly.

She paused, before then asking, "Why?"

"You collapsed," he stated solemnly, "I didn't want to just leave you in such a state…I thought it'd be better that you got some rest, back in your own chamber."

Padmé frowned again, her head pounding and the strong nausea, that had haunted her all day, still present; she gently forced herself out of his hold, pulling back so that she could look him in the face. Her memory abruptly clicked, "Get away from me!" she cried, slapping his hands off of her and lurching back along the bed from him, her eyes widening further in anxiety.

Count Dooku sat there motionless, watching her carefully and in silence.

Padmé swallowed – it all came back now; the feeling of not knowing, yet knowing; the darkened training hall; the desperation and rage; the lightsabres; everything…

Her head felt light, and thousands of white dots suddenly littered her vision; she slipped down onto her side, her balance completely off, and grasped the duvet beneath her harshly in an attempt to remain focused.

"Steady…" Serenn murmured, leaning over her and putting a hand out toward her shoulder, "You'll pass out again."

"Go away!" she snapped relentlessly, "Go away!"

He exhaled gruffly, lurching over her and pinning her down by each arm, a knee on the mattress and a leg on the floor to stabilise himself; "Calm down!" he ordered, looking at her hard.

Positions had now been reversed from those of the latest Nubian meadow reverie, and now Padmé was the one looking up – she continued to breathe in a panicky manner, and gave the Count a pleading stare, "Please leave me alone…" she whispered urgently.

He held her down, and hissed sternly in return, "I'm not going to hurt you. Now calm down, or you'll faint again."

"_Please_ go away," she repeated desperately, shaking her head as much as she could in gesture, his grip about her wrists tight and unforgiving.

"_Shhh_…" he soothed her quietly, raising one hand and running it back over her brow, brushing the wild strands of her hair out of her eyes.

She lay still, regarding him with a terrified stare, feeling too weak to struggle; she knew it would be vain to, anyway.

"That's better," he nodded quietly, keeping hold of her one wrist.

"What are you playing at?" she asked him discreetly, staring into his eyes intently; his hand didn't feel cold as he touched her this time – it was warm, 'impassioned' almost, but no less uncomfortable.

A slight frown furrowed his wrinkled brow, "I don't follow you, my dear," he replied gently, releasing her wrist, and sitting back on the mattress, placing his hands in his lap and his legs over the side of the bed.

"What happened?" she asked tearfully, urging herself to have the fortitude to challenge him.

Serenn's face didn't even twitch in curiosity, and he just stared at her blankly.

"What happened last night?" she persisted, almost choking on her words – just being so close to this man, which she suspected of so much, unnerved her to the very core, causing her much agony.

He shook his head stiltedly, "I don't know," he replied, "Would you like to tell me?"

She felt her face contort in disbelief – why was he doing this? Or was it she who was at fault? Had a delusion of her own conjured up these wicked thoughts and uncertainties?

No, surely not…

"How am I ever supposed to trust you again?" she sobbed dramatically, unsure of what to say or do.

He shook his head in a wild frustration, "Then enlighten me!" he growled, "What are you talking about?"

"You know!" she shouted, "I know you do!" Padmé's intense eyes bore into Dooku's face, and all he could do was just glare back at her, teeth ground together, whilst she froze herself in that moment of agony; she then threw herself back onto the duvet and cried into its folds, clutching it forcefully in her hands.

Swiftly, Edna emerged from the _en suite_, "Is everything all right, sir?" she asked, having heard raised voices, "Has she come round?"

He paused for a moment, then replied calmly, "Everything's fine…she's got her senses back, but is just a bit…_'tense'_."

Mrs. Tarso shook her head sympathetically, "Poor dear…I'll come and get her in a moment, sir, if she's all right."

"She will be," he nodded in response as the servant trotted back into the 'fresher room.

He exhaled slowly, raising his hand to the back of her head, and stroked her hair gently; "I'll tell you what I do know, Padmé," he said to her in a reserved tone as he softly caressed her hair.

She swallowed, and shakily raised her tear-sodden face from the quilt; "What?" she asked almost inaudibly, looking in his direction out of the corner of her eyes.

"That you just tried to kill me," he stated straight, his tone unyielding; he continued to fondle her brunette tresses, however, in a bizarrely intimidating motion.

Padmé hesitated, "I wasn't trying to kill you," she said unsteadily, shaking her head a little.

"Injure me, then."

"What else could I do?" she asked, angling her torso about so that she could face him, throwing his hand off of her, "I'm trapped here with a man who –"

"Who _what_?" he snarled again.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was reduced to shaking her head once more, unable to summon the courage to get the words out, "I can't even bring myself to say it..." she sobbed, turning back away from him again; his hand returned to her, now resting delicately on her shoulder.

"We're on the same team, Padmé," he said quietly, leaning down closer by her side and putting his mouth to her ear, "Both Separatists, idealists, fugitives…we're in this political venture _together_, with others who share our vision…"

"It's not _that_ that I'm talking about!" she griped sensitively, "And you know it…"

"So what precisely am I supposed to know?" he growled, keeping close by her, his grip beginning to tighten on her shoulder; she winced as his fingers dug into her already sore flesh; "Tell me what I've done!" he continued sharply.

His voice echoed eerily down her ear canal, as though he was shouting within a cavernous hall – the coldness was coming again, just when she thought it'd stopped; she breathed in tensely, closing her eyes and trying to keep her head above the cloudy waters of his control as the elusive 'ice' began to clutter her innards and her mind, tightening restraining shackles and leashes about her free will and her spirit.

He pressed his nose against the side of her head and hissed blatantly down her ear, "I haven't done anything."

Padmé made no response, just shuddered violently as she felt his breath trickle down her auditory canal, and a jolt of coldness thrust through her torso. 

Satisfied that his message had sunk in, Dooku sharply tore his hand off of her shoulder, further aggravating her bruising, and drew himself away. But Padmé suddenly felt her rage and fear build up to a terrifying peak within, and, catching the Count completely off-guard, swung her hand about and slapped him firmly across the cheek with an echoing _clout_! She then drew her hand back to herself, kind of shocked at what she'd just done, unable to do anything but look back at him, pondering now (again, when it was too late) whether that had been a good idea or not – not that she'd thought about it before, it'd just happened. Serenn just glared back at her with utter astonishment, his passionate eyes filling with both surprise and further frenzy, his cheek reddening as the impact of her smack sunk in. His lip shuddered in wrath, his mind buzzing over how to respond.

Padmé, regarding his fiery eyes warily, cringed and turned her head away, certain that he was going to get brutal with her…but, before he could allow himself to do anything, and to Padmé's relief, the Count shook his head and forced himself off of the bed, shooting to his feet and marching away across the chamber, toward the long windows at the room's extremity.

Padmé swallowed slowly, letting a peaceful moment of silence pass, keeping her eyes warily upon his figure, stood over by the windows; for some reason, she knew that he wasn't going to let himself retaliate. He stood severely still, his back facing her and his arms folded, and just stared blankly into the darkness of the outside world through the partially drawn curtains; perhaps he had a right to be so irate, seeing as she had just seemed to have made an attempt on his life, and had now struck him. 

But perhaps she also had had a right to do what she had tried to in the training hall, whatever that had been (she wasn't actually sure what her aims had been herself).

The atmosphere was so claustrophobic and electric that Padmé was relieved when the kindly servant, Mrs. Tarso, finally re-emerged into the chamber; "I've run you a nice, hot bath, m' dear," she smiled with genuine benevolence toward her, clasping her hands together gently, "It's ready and waiting for you, with fresh towels and all."

Padmé nodded, managing a faint, grateful smile, "Thankyou," she said quietly, steadily getting herself to her feet.

Seeing her shakiness, Edna walked over to her, and helped her pace along toward the _en suite_; Padmé stared at the Count as she passed behind him, who turned his head just enough to give her a glare in return; suspicion and fear littered her gaze, but this was only met by Dooku's cold, vindictive eyes in return. 

He watched her until she was out of sight, and, once she was gone behind the doors of the bathroom, he turned about and made a tempestuous exit, slamming the door behind him.

**TBC…**


	15. The Show Goes On

**Author's Notes**: I'm going to be scanning some of my rough _Eclipse_ fan art soon for my lil Fanlisting site – some of it's spoiler stuff, though, so if you choose to look at it, it's at your own risk. I've put up a couple of polls, too, just for a spot of fun, to see what you have to say about certain future issues – so I'd be grateful if you dropped by and voted in them, in the 'Fan Corner' section. ^_^

And I have a dilemma – when does Bail Antilles become Bail Organa? And which is he in Episode II? He was Antilles in Episode I, but now I'm not so sure…I've called him Antilles here, on a side note, but I'm confused… o_0

**Shadow-Angel:** I've popped the Gunray scene in here. It perhaps should have come earlier, but hey, no matter!

**Strider's Girl:** Bit of an understatement, Dooku being old for Padmé, but it's original – and there's nothing better than shocking your readers! ^_~ There's another bit of Padmé and Dooku interaction at the end of this chapter for you.

**Merrymoll & Padawanmage:** Okay, this freaked me out – you both said the same thing, in so many words, that you didn't know where my story was going! But I'll tell you both that I have more direction now than I did when I first started writing this fic! Honest! You ought to see my pile of notes!

**SKYwalker-Blue:** A cookie? Sure, have one! *_tosses Kris a cookie_* 0_o 

**Diabla:** I'm sure you weren't the only one who thought that – I'll ask everyone actually at the end of this chapter! And exams went very well, thank you! Nice of you to ask. u_u

**Disclaimer**: I'm not even gonna bother… ^_~

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 15**

**A** long, lush stalk of native Neimoidian bamboo stuck out of the reptilian maw of Trade Federation viceroy, Nute Gunray. He was lounging back in the private mud bath of the Neimoidian chiefs, relaxing his feeble body in it murky and viscous waters, now that he was safely back on his home planet of Neimoidia; this large bath was for the use of the upper-class aristocracy only, and was a favourite pastime of the rich, considered both relaxing and sophisticated. 

Gunray was up to his waist in the thick, gluey mud, leant back onto the edge of the pool, upon which two young, red twi'lek slave girls sat, massaging his weak, rounded shoulders from behind, their legs hanging over the pool's edge and partially submerged in the sludge. Accompanying Gunray was his aide from the recent Separatist struggles, his old ally (turned paranoid schizophrenic), Rune Haako, and the highly regarded master of the Leningraade Hive, Catarsis Lenin. All four were just having a soothing rest in the mud pool, talking over recent political events with one another within these apparently comfortable confines.

Nute calmly removed the bamboo shoot from his mouth with one of his thick, scaly hands; the insides of the stalk were filled with dark, black tobacco, glowing and smouldering with a low flame. The Viceroy went on to smoothly send a smoke ring from out between his lips – he was such a different character within the safe boundaries of his own home, and with his own favoured company, being both composed and collected.

Haako disturbed the peaceful murmuring of the bath's bubbling mire, deciding to continue with the conversation that had recently waned, "So, you think these Separatists will give us what that…_Sidious_ could not?" he asked; he spoke the name of 'Sidious' quietly and with dread, a chill rushing up his spine, as though he were almost afraid that the Sith Lord might have heard his words and appear to scold him.

Gunray, however, was unflappable; he slouched further back against the wall, the twi'lek masseuses continuing their work, "Well, I hope so," he replied steadily, "It has to be better than what the Republic are giving us at current – the taxing on trade is getting beyond implausibility! They are doing nothing for the good of commerce."

"And is this 'Dooku' as powerful as the Senate's panic suggests?" Haako continued.

Gunray made an uncertain and disapproving gesture, "Powerful, yes, and intelligent," he admitted half-heartedly, waving about his smoking bamboo shoot in gesture, "But I'm not sure that his ambitions are in the right place…"

He took a further puff from his stalk-pipe, before blowing another smoke ring from out of his mouth, sighing contently as the masseuses continued to successfully relax the feeble muscles within his shoulders.

"You mean that he has _ulterior_ motives to just boosting business?" Rune spluttered in a swiftly ascending panic – his nerves had never been the same since the Nubian blockade ten years ago; he'd almost embraced his arrest when it had all ended, desperate to get away from the grasp of the mysterious Darth Sidious. To now hear that another ally of theirs had 'ulterior motives', things which Sidious had undoubtedly possessed in spades, unnerved the frail Neimoidian enormously.

Nute shrugged leisurely, confident that he hadn't fallen into the same trap again with the Count as he had with Sidious before, "He may, or may not. It's just the dealings of late with Senator Amidala that I'm angry about."

Haako shuddered at the name, allowing himself to sink low down into the mud bath, whilst Catarsis picked up the conversation, "That thorn still in your side?" he rasped in his deep, throaty tone; 40 bamboo-cigars a day for the last forty years had done that to his voice.

Nute groaned irritably in the manner of an ill-tempered old woman, "Oh, you wouldn't believe it!" he exhaled languidly, wildly gesturing with his hands, before he replaced the simmering stalk of bamboo into his jaws; "The main impetus that had me joining that former Jedi's movement, besides the overwhelming profit it guaranteed, of course, was the fact that, in my contract, I agreed to sign up _all_ of my forces to that man in exchange for _Amidala's head_."

"And instead?" Lenin asked in a knowing anticipation, grinning toothily; two of his incisors now peeped over his bottom lip, looking completely out of place on his flat, docile face, due to the fact that they had been filed into sharp, ugly-looking points.

"And instead he's got her to _sign _and _join_!" Gunray bawled, accidentally spitting his pipe out of his mouth as he yelled; he watched the bamboo shoot fly through the air before him and land upon the surface of the mire, before it slowly began to sink down into its depths, the thick liquid quickly consuming it and smothering out the meagre fire lit within; Nute ignored it, and continued with his complaining, "I don't wish to be part of the same movement as that– that–"

"Why has he bothered to sign her up?" Catarsis inquired, interrupting the Viceroy before he went off on a rant about how he was being 'unfairly and unjustly treated', something he did all too often, "Naboo is a pathetic planet – it makes no immense profit, has little in ways of produce worth trading –"

Gunray shook his head, "I don't think Dooku's thinking about the _planet_ in this arrangement…" he seethed blatantly, suggestion rife in his tone.

"Then what's he up to? He may as well persuade Antilles and his pacifist prigs to join him," Lenin went on.

"Bail?" Gunray spurted; he rapidly shook his head, "No, Catarsis, you missed my point. I _really_ don't think that it's _Naboo_ that the Count's after."

Lenin blinked obtusely.

Gunray rolled his eyes – Lenin was a powerful and popular Neimoidian, but occasionally, he felt, he was a little on the slow side; "He wouldn't ask Bail to join – he doesn't _need_ Alderaan, and Bail can't, _definitely_ can't offer him what Amidala _can_."

There was no sign of a tag-on from Catarsis yet.

Nute was tiring of this, "I know the Count's lightsabre's bent, for the sake of the Force, _no_…"

Bubbles rose up before Rune's head, now half submerged under the surface of the mud, as he chuckled to himself furtively, his quick-wit cottoning on to what Nute was saying.

It was a few more seconds before Lenin finally saw what Nute meant, "Oh," he slowly nodded, "OH! I see…lust and desire for a _lady_…"

Nute made a gesture of relief, shaking his head discreetly toward Lenin's density.

Catarsis then shook his head, chuckling, "I thought that humans were _obsolete_ in that department long before his age…"

Gunray shook his head once more in gesture, "He denies anything on the 'hormonal' side, but I do not believe him. He has no other reason to need Amidala; Naboo is a complete waste of space in the Confederacy."

"Quit, then," Catarsis suggested, splashing back into the pool and completely submerging for several moments before his head alone resurfaced again.

Gunray seemed to twitch in uncertainty for a moment, before he carried on; "I cannot," he answered unquestionably, shooing off his twi'lek masseuses who were now proving an irritant to him, "I've signed to him, and if I took off now, and did not return, he would come after me – he's no pacifistic Jedi, not at all…I'd give him credit for that fact if it didn't potentially threaten me."

The two twi'leks quickly disappeared out of the chamber at their master's command, slipping silently out of the far door, as Rune continued with the discussion; "He'll tire of her, Nute," he smirked, raising his mouth above the mud, "Let him have his fun. It won't occupy him forever. He's leading a cause he believes in – the former Nubian Queen is a convenient bit on the side, I'm sure."

"Say what you will," Gunray shrugged, having decided already that he didn't like the Count anymore, "But he should put the CIS first."

"Who's to say that is isn't?" Lenin pondered, smirking indicatively, "He may be doing what he's doing for the Confederacy, firmly instigating a strong form of dominance over the lass – I've seen it happen many a time in the hives; Adolphus of the Marxin Hive used his intimate relations with many females to bind them to him.

"The Count is a politician, and doing what they do best – laying the foundations for blackmail, should he ever need to use it."

Nute still wasn't convinced, "_Maybe_…" he huffed; it seemed too farfetched for an elderly, ex-Jedi, human to go to such lengths.

"Well, he's caused a riot in the Senate by getting Amidala to join him, no doubts there," Gunray's aide, so far silent, now spoke up."

"A 'split' may be the better term," Haako added.

Nute wafted a hand toward them both, disinterested, "As long as Lott keeps on the _right_ side in the blasted Senate, I don't care what happens in there; there's too much talking by people who don't know what they're talking about!"

Rune and Nute's aide exchanged partially astonished glances – the Viceroy had said something relatively intelligent for once! They weren't going to inflate his head further by telling him that, though.

"So, what now? Are your droid supplies being replenished?" Catarsis went on, "You lost a lot back on Geonosis."

"The Count will be paying for our replacements, I assure you of that!" replied Nute indignantly, "He promised to cover much of our artillery costs, and the Geonosian conflicts were all _his_ fault."

The aide was careful not to mention that more battle droids would have been lost had Gunray had his way, and sent more troops out against the Republic; it was Dooku who had advised against it.

Nute had gone on to mumble various obscenities to himself concerning Dooku, running one finger round in the mud angrily before him, when, suddenly, a weedy-looking worker Neimoidian paced into the room, his globular, red Neimoidian eyes bulging out his thin, worn face.

"What is it?" Catarsis snapped irritably at the thin boy, regarding him with a heavily haughty disgust, his brow wrinkling in revulsion; the Neimoidian society was very much dog-eat-dog; the Neimoidians' grub offspring usually did all in their power to kill their siblings, and hoarded food for themselves, becoming, when they grew, the greedy yet successful upper echelons of society; the weaker ones, meanwhile, who _did_ manage to survive their brothers' and sisters' onslaughts in the nests, became the slaves, servants and workers of the Neimoidian hives. Their culture was as simple as that.

The thin creature swallowed, his body trembling, then stuttered tentatively, "Have message for the Viceroy."

"What is it?" Gunray asked, equally conceitedly, the worker a piece of insignificant filth in his eyes.

"Viceroy's message has been relayed to Count Duku…return transmission re-requests that Viceroy Gunray reports for meeting…via tran-tran-transmission…to Count's base on Se-Se-Serennu…for further instructions."

Gunray nodded, understanding the worker despite his flittering and nervous tone, "At what time? In 'Central-Coruscant-Time-Zone'."

The weakling shuddered, "Erm…7:00am sir, his time…so, er…that'll be…9:00am, sir, CCT…" The shabby Neimoidian then bowed in submission, as though Gunray were doing him the courtesy, not vice versa – he knew nothing more than his situation, though, so he accepted it and the way things were.

"Fine…dismissed," the Viceroy continued languidly. 

The thin, scrawny boy quickly scuttled away, desperate to get out of his superior's arrogant gazes.

"Looks like Dooku is wasting no time," Haako noted aloud, "It has hardly been two days since the Geonosian conflicts, and you now have but two hours before you contact him again."

"Bit short notice, eh, Nute?" Catarsis said lightly, "But efficient for a human – gotta give him that."

Haako nodded in a discreet agreement, though he did feel an uneasy weight in the depths of his heart – this 'swift efficiency' didn't half remind him of Darth Sidious… And that fact in itself was unsettling.

Gunray didn't seem to express any concern, "Efficient or no, he'd better have my droids replaced, and a good plan of revenge on those blasted Republicans! I will not be constantly made a fool of for the rest of my life through lost battles!"

The Viceroy then slowly allowed himself to submerge down below the mud's surface; truth be had, Haako wasn't the only one with apprehensions…

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**A**nakin was beginning to lose his patience. Barely ten minutes had he been sat in the dining hall, prodding what was supposed to be his breakfast, and already gossiping young Padawans, who stared blatantly at his metallic arm, surrounded him on tables to both his sides. 

He cast his eyes threateningly over all parties daring to look upon him; the Younglings didn't seem to take any note of he, himself, though – they were just gawping in a combination of horror and amazement at Anakin's synthetic limb. It was something that frightened them more than anything, in all honestly; these young Jedi had believed, like many of their naïve age, that Jedi were almost completely invulnerable. Anakin's arm was evidence to them that Jedi were actually vulnerable, and also evidence of the horrific injuries that could be inflicted upon them in combat. The thought kept crossing their minds that maybe one day they would be the ones losing a limb in lightsabre combat, and that thought unnerved them greatly, casting a dark and ominous shadow over the future they had once counted as so bright.

_'No one can kill a Jedi'_

_'I wish that were so'_

Anakin was too incensed, however, to even bother to consider how innocent the Padawans' stares actually were; far from being as prying and disdainful as Skywalker's clouded mind contemplated, they were actually very scared and upset, just as he would have been when he was their age.

He grunted angrily at their intruding eyes, and tried his best to finish his breakfast quickly, making an impatient haste to jam every last drop of the stuff down his throat; he had decided already that he was going to return straight to his training today. His dreams and visions about Padmé had come again last night, and had done nothing to console his already confused and restless mind. They had only increased his feeling of urgency to find her, and had made the notion of patience that the Chancellor had inaugurated upon him seem far less significant; Anakin couldn't care less about allegiances anymore – the line between the Republic and the Confederacy was blurring all the time. He really didn't want to betray the Chancellor, but he didn't want to risk completely losing Padmé. And the further away that they got from the time of the Geonosian conflict, the more desperate he was becoming about saving his beloved.

The dining hall slowly began to fill with more and more Padawans and various other Jedi, all greeting the morning with a good breakfast. There weren't as many Jedi as usual in the hall, with the impact of recent events having taken a large toll on their already dwindling numbers. However, the buzz was still noticeable in Anakin's currently touchy self. 

A few young Jedi sat cautiously at the end of Anakin's table; they looked briefly at the famous Chosen One, and at the equally infamous arm that he now sported, before digging into their breakfast.

Ani shook his head – he'd had enough of being stared at; true, his horrific injury had only happened a few days ago, and the grim excitement that had emanated about the halls of the Jedi Temple in response hadn't yet calmed down, but he'd rather not have the attention. He'd been a loner anyway ever since his arrival, his background and circumstance differing so much from most of the other Padawans, all of which had been in the Order since they could remember, unlike him. Many Padawans had often tried to befriend him, and occasionally they're efforts had worked, but because Anakin often became so tiresome, people frequently felt both irritated and uncomfortable around him, so left him to himself.

No one knew better than Obi-Wan of exactly how tiring Anakin could sometimes be, but Obi loved Anakin like a son, and understood, as a Master, that he had to do his utmost to give his Padawan the best possible chance of achieving knighthood in the future. Kenobi had persevered and pushed himself to the limit on many occasions in order to try and give Anakin the best, and keep him on the right path – but this in itself was becoming increasingly hard for the poor Jedi…

As the seats around him filled to bursting point, and the loud buzz of chatter wholly filled the cavernous halls of the large chamber, Anakin took one last mouthful of his breakfast, tossed his spoon into his bowl, and shot off to return his plate to the kitchens. He swiftly then left the dining hall, and stormed quickly down the corridors beyond, putting his mind back on his training task – he had begun his titanic training quest yesterday with the basics of Dooku's favoured Form of combat, the notorious Form II, using all of his downloaded information from the Archives. He'd made little progress, however; but little progress was better than none at all. It was difficult teaching yourself from words on a page, but it was better than merely being idle, like Master Kenobi seemed to want him to be…

He could do it – nothing was beyond him. He was the Chosen One.

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"**T**he Separatists seem to have split into their own mini-factions; they're clearly regrouping. We'll have to wait until they become a visible, single force again until any attack against them will be effective," Windu mused, sat in the apartment of Senator Bail Antilles.

"And they'll be wary of us," Bail added, standing by the large windows over the other side of the room, "After seeing our artillery, I doubt they'll want to attract too much attention." He clasped his hands behind his back and paced along by the window, thinking, "They'll move fast along vulnerable yet useful planets, accumulating as many more signings to their movement as possible, I am sure."

"Are you suggesting that we should deploy part of the fleet to the Outer Rim?" Windu queried.

"Only to parts of it that have planets worth defending," Bail reminded the Jedi Master, "It's no use guarding the likes of Colla and Nal Hutta, which have no influence on the Republic Senate whatsoever."

Of course," Mace acquiesced, pausing for another moment's thought; "But what about Naboo?" he then asked in a low tone, his eyes focusing sharply onto Bail, "It's been signed to Dooku, but –"

"But not verified as part of the Confederacy," Antilles finished, "I see your point – the Count will undoubtedly have to pay them a visit some time."

"We need to catch him," Windu quietly murmured blandly, "We just have to."

"It's getting him that's the problem – he's a slippery ol' creature, always falling through and evading our grasp," Bail smiled gloomily; his eyes turned out toward the brimming traffic, cramming the skylines of Coruscant outside.

"What do you make of Senator Amidala's turn?" Mace suddenly queried, his voice rife with concern, "It makes absolutely no sense to me."

Antilles could only shake his head, "Something's not right…Padmé wouldn't join him unless her situation was absolutely desperate," he said without a doubt.

"What did Dooku offer her that made her sign?" Mace mused to himself, rubbing his chin in thought, and looking blankly into space, "There is some foul play abroad – I sensed that much when I was last in his presence."

Antilles turned to Windu promptly, "_Or_," he announced in a grave voice, "What did he offer to _take away_ if she didn't sign…?"

Mace sighed, shaking his head, starting vacantly at the floor – at one time, he would have denied that Dooku had the capacity to do any kind of blackmail of the likes of which Bail now seemed to be suggesting, but after the Geonosian conflicts, he'd seen a change in his old friend for the worse, and all of a sudden, blackmail was not such a farfetched proposal on the Count's behalf…not farfetched at all.

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**A** hazy, unsettled morning greeted the Count when he stirred the next day. He'd hardly slept last night at all (though he was at a complete loss as to why) so he felt mightily groggy. To make matters worse, his chest wound had decided to throb and seep for much of the night, so it was a stinging, sticky mess now, causing him much discomfort.

He rose long before even Mrs. Tarso who, as per his orders, which she'd received through her husband yesterday, got breakfast ready sharply, before the crack of dawn, once she had arisen. She seemed to be her normal, bubbly self, though Serenn couldn't help but notice, as she ushered about him whilst he sat at the head of his dining table, that she seemed to be careful to avoid the subject of Padmé; the tension hovering around the subject must be more tangible than he'd previously contemplated.

The light of the dawn filtered in through the blinds of the windows whilst Dooku inanely prodded his breakfast, his mind wandering far and wide as he stared blankly into the pulpy mass that was now in his dish; why was he feeling so…'low'? It wasn't like him at all to wallow in self-pity and reproach himself.

"Is Miss. Amidala awake yet?" he asked Edna, dropping his spoon suddenly into his bowl and looking at her directly as she placed a cup of mineral water before him.

"I don't know, sir," Edna replied, standing back and looking upon her master benignly, "But she wasn't well yesterday, so it may be better to let her rest for the time being."

"I can't afford to," he firmly rejoined, rising straight to his feet from his chair, "I'll be addressing my colleagues shortly, and I'll need her with me." All of the Separatist parties had finally gotten in contact with the Count after his request for them to do so prior to their fleeing from the Geonosian conflicts; it'd taken the Trade Federation until late last night to finally get a message through to him, though.

"No, sir, sit down," Mrs. Tarso asked him fussily, placing her hand onto his arm, gesturing for him to retake his seat, "I'll go and get her for you."

He looked at her for a moment, his face expressionless, before he shook it steadily in a negative motion, "No," he sighed, brushing his servant's hand off of him gently, "I think that the young lady and I need a good talk." He then nodded courteously to his servant, before leaving his half eaten breakfast and the large banquet chamber unperturbedly, walking off to collect Padmé. 

Edna exhaled lightly, nodding discreetly to herself.

**S**erenn didn't knock on Padmé's door when he finally reached it – he just walked straight into her room quietly, making as little noise as possible, something he did deftly; one's aptness at stealth had often meant living or dying on missions with the Jedi, so he had learned that skill well. 

Amidala was already awake, it seeming that she neither had slept much last night; she was stood out on the balcony, looking across the chilly, misty morning that hung over the plains before her.

Dooku's gaze tightened slightly as he silently closed the door behind him, before pacing noiselessly across the room, and halting in the threshold between the chamber and the balcony beyond, the glass door of which had been left ajar by the young lady. He stared at the back of her for a long time, certain that she knew he was there and that she was just playing ignorant. She made no move in this pause, no single acknowledgement of his presence, no motion in fear, anger or distress.

The Count resolved to make himself known in a way that would forcibly engage her, so, stepping to her side and leaning over the balcony rail that she, too, leant across, he stared hard at her face, prompting a pressurising aura to arise in the space between them. She still didn't turn to him, her eyes notably red and tear swollen, a sight which was becoming all too familiar on the poor Senator's pale visage, and she only continued to stare out longingly ahead, watching the equines in the distant fields frolic around without restraint.

"Are we taking the 'I'm not talking to you' approach?" he asked grimly, turning further round toward her and leaning upon one elbow on the banister of the balcony.

She swallowed – he watched the lump descend down her throat – but still said nothing, and still made no movement.

"Yes?" he queried in a cruel, toying manner, pushing himself back to his full height off of the rail, and lifting a hand toward her.

Suddenly, she rapidly recoiled, leaping back a space along the terrace, "Don't touch me," she hissed, glaring intently toward him with her sore eyes.

He smiled, merely amused by her antics, and raised both of his hands up in a contemptuous gesture, "Understood, my dear. I don't want another slap."

Padmé remained in her on-guard position, her brow furrowing toward him irritably.

"You need to be ready by 6:45am," he went on plainly, "We have a meeting to attend."

"A meeting?" she asked quietly, this all seeming very sudden; she'd been so wrapped up in her own uncomfortable affairs for the past couple of days that her mind had somewhat pushed the political conflicts of the galaxy to the back of her head, making her almost forget who she was and what she stood for.

"Yes," Serenn slowly nodded, as if to an infant, "You are still part of the Confederacy –"

"But my planet!" she suddenly proclaimed, a ton of thoughts and concerns bursting forth from their resting places in the recesses of her consciousness, where they had lay dormant for the past forty-eight hours, "My people, my –"

"We'll come onto that," he interrupted her with assurance, his hands now gesturing downward, beseeching calmness in her.

"Oh, will we '_come onto it_'…" Padmé snarled bitterly, purposely taking his words the wrong way.

He gave her a brief, stinging glare, "I advise you not to take that tone with me," he thundered in an ominously tame manner.

She shook her head, turning away and leaning over the balcony handrail again, letting the fresh air of daybreak brush her features soothingly; "I want to go home," she said bluntly, not realising quite how woeful a level her tone had suddenly dropped to.

He strode behind her and placed his hands about her waist; she inhaled sharply in reaction, preparing to recoil…but she couldn't; the numb, overriding coldness of his unreal and sinister control swept through her rapidly once more, commanding her limbs to his will and keeping her absolutely immobile. Swiftly, the desperate frustration that she had so often felt in this man's presence of late began to build up again, responding to her feeling of alarming helplessness.

"Please don't…" she whispered toward him pleadingly, her breath jarring in her throat at every inhalation. She couldn't see him, but she knew that a grin had now arisen on his face – she could just sense it.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked her pitilessly, maintaining his outwardly affectionate hold of her.

"Something you more likely have no right to do," she rejoined brusquely, turning her head a little toward her shoulder in an attempt to somewhat engage him.

His breath tickled the back of her neck as he snickered silently behind her, "Like you have the right to draw a lightsabre on my turned back?" he inquired rhetorically.

"I had good reason," she retorted.

He dug his fingers a little into her sides, and asked her, with an element of frustration in his tone, "Oh, we're back to pointing empty fingers again, are we?"

"Why would I point 'empty fingers'?" she asked incredulously, "Who do you think I am?"

"Good question," he rejoined sinisterly, sliding his hands round to her abdomen, and holding her tightly back into him; he lowered his head to the side of hers, and continued, whispering quietly and threateningly down her ear canal, "Maybe someone needs a good reason to damn me? Perhaps someone's suddenly begun to panic at the thought of reactions she will receive from her fellow Nubians and Senators, and feels that making me the enemy is the only way out…?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said quietly, though, had to admit, his words had affected her. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, adding, "I don't make false accusations…"

"I mentioned no names," Serenn chuckled derisively, "And you wouldn't do anything of the sort, now, would you? Oh no, not Padmé – because you're just _perfect_, aren't you?"

She decided not to reply – she couldn't get anywhere with him – and she now realised that her feeling of being restrained had somewhat ebbed, so she managed to raise her hands over his and attempt to pry them off of her; "Well, let me go and get ready, then…" she asked him passively, trying to loosen his hold on her stomach.

He swiftly slackened his grip, but, as soon as Amidala had had chance to turn around, he shot his arms out to either side of her, and gripped the balcony rail hard; she yelped in shock, trapped between his two arms, the barrier behind her, overhanging the grounds below, and his body.

"You are a feisty little one," he murmured curtly, shaking his head in a soft yet sinister gesture toward her, "But I'll warn you now, before you try and cut my head off again, I can be a _very_ nasty piece of work when I want to be."

She swallowed, arching herself back away from him as far as she could, feeling the railing dig into her back as she ached to get some space between their bodies; "You have two faces, Dooku," she whispered hesitantly, "And I'm not sure which is the real one…"

He snickered vilely, "Wouldn't you like to know?" he chortled sardonically, "Now, be a good girl…I don't like threatening my colleagues, but they sometimes need putting into their places."

"Or _someone_ needs putting back into theirs," she added riskily.

He grinned again, shaking his head in another contemptuous motion, "Cheeky girl," he smirked, though his tone bellied his expression, being both tense and tight; he lowered his head even closer to hers, adding, "Remember, _my dear_, I have other ways of hurting you if you don't cooperate, that are much more _inventive_ than a little slap round the face."

She maintained eye contact with him, trying to hold her own as she sank down further before the barrier, his glare bearing down on her with a terrible strength; she felt sick again, her unease returning and churning about in the form of nausea.

"We will go to Naboo soon, Padmé," he said straight, slowly releasing her from his enclosure, drawing his hands back to his sides, and standing erect before her, "Don't worry – I'm sure it'll assent to my cause, though one way or another…"

He turned on his heels and paced away; "I expect to see you in the dining hall within ten minutes," he added before he left as swiftly and as quietly as he had come.

**TBC…**

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**NB: **On behalf of **Diabla**, how many people, at the end of the last chapter thought, _"__Hit [Dooku] again Padmé - but some snap into it!" _? ^_^ LOL


	16. The Puppet Masters

**Author's Notes: **I want to plug Merrymoll's fic for her, but FF.Net just won't let me put a URL in my text… *_growls_* So, I'm telling you plainly, go and plug '**Terra Incognito'** into the FF.Net search engine, read it and enjoy – it's really good, I'm telling you now! (It's also on my fave stories list if you wanna just pop through my profile to there)

**Shadow-Angel**: Thanks – Dia'll be glad to know she wasn't the only one!

**LPST:** (when you get this far!) Welcome to _Eclipse_! And I know it's twisted, but that's just me for you! ^_^ It's original, though, no?

**Strider's Girl:** Patience – I'm really going to make Ani & Dooku's next encounter a _whopping_ 'conflagration'! Just for you. ^_~

**Merrymoll:** Bonjour, ma amis! You didn't freak me out, really – it was just the fact that you and PadawanMage said almost exactly the same thing that made me think! It was such a coincidence! I'm glad you liked Nute's _er_…'sit down' comedian show; I like Nute, I always have. He's just so pathetic! ^_^ And I'll keep the Leia thing in mind… ^_~ _*hint, hint*_

**Liz:** You're back! *_waves_* Nice to see you again! And Dooku'll come clean some time…you'll see.

**Disclaimer**: Count Dooku is mine! MINE, I tell you! No one's going to take him away from – *_sees lawyers on the horizon_* Er…okay, he's **not** mine…I'm sorry! o_0 Nothing wrong with wishful thinking, is there?

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 16**

**A** chilly breeze whispered its way passed the Count and the Senator as they walked silently, side-by-side, down the sombre halls of the Dooku manor, saying nothing, their motions betraying no sign of their feelings toward one another at that present moment in time. They were pacing down into the lowest, darkest and most secretive depths of the mansion, below the level of ground; it would seem that there were many a secret and hidden passageway in the subterranean parts of the structure, one of these through which they strode now; the revelation of this huge network of concealed corridors only further qualified Padmé's view of the construction being labyrinthine. There were no paintings hung on the walls down here, no tapestries, and very few decorations – the halls were without windows, being below ground, and the synthetic light that illuminated them was incredibly dim. 

Padmé rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself, her worn jumpsuit not providing the insulation she currently wanted; she did the best that she could to conceal her attempts at heating herself from the Count, however, for she still held a violent distrust of him, and didn't want his unwelcome arm to loop around her shoulder. He didn't seem to notice at all – infact, his vacant, forward gaze suggested that his mind was elsewhere, his thoughts wandering. Padmé was quite thankful for this 'absence' – he unnerved her greatly, and she had no idea for what reasons he treated her as he did; sometimes he was overly kind, others he was brutally cruel. She was certain that he'd peaked at his most evil the evening before last, though she still had only a gut feeling to go on concerning her suspicions of that most horrific act.

She exhaled deeply, and, whilst Dooku was lost in his thoughts, she allowed herself to fall back into hers…

Her bath last night had not made her feel any cleaner – and it wasn't just because she'd been wearing this same jumpsuit three days running, now. The Count was in denial – she'd never felt so dismally sure about something before in her life; and this was important, serious, critical – she had a right to know what had been done with her own body. And why.

She had hardly stopped thinking about this appalling notion since she'd awoken yesterday, and consequently had suffered reoccurring bouts of nausea in response to these worries. Infact, so bad had they become this morning, that she'd vomited violently after Serenn had left her room – she could still taste the sour bile in her mouth. She had been under the impression, strange and sudden as it had been, that she'd been with Anakin the night prior to last, and had thought that she'd given her love to him. The fact that she had woken back in the Count's large residence had changed this conception for the worse. And now all she could think about was the sole memoir that she had of the first evening here, of entering the bedroom with the persuasive Count before remembering nothing more…

When had she gone from Serenno to Naboo? The manor to the meadow? Serenn to Anakin? And had everything she believed that she'd done with Anakin transferred to Serenn? 

She shuddered, swallowing hard, feeling another sudden impulse to throw up; she'd lost something very important, but to the wrong man…

She paused in her thoughts, making sure that she didn't actually heave all over the floor (she was sure, after her little spat with Dooku this morning, that he'd just _love_ that, to top things off). After taking a couple of deep breaths, she was satisfied that she wasn't going to boycott what little there was in her stomach onto the floor, and continued to dwell within her unpleasant and unwanted thoughts:

Could she _really_ accuse Serenn in public of what she believed had happened? Should she? And who would she disclose this to, exactly? It could easily play against her. 

It was going to be hard enough as it was to try and explain to everyone back home why she had signed them to the Separatists, but to add to this that she believed that the leader of the Confederacy had abused her…how could she possibly convince people of that, especially when she wasn't even sure herself? And adding further chaos to this incredible dilemma the fact that this Separatist leader happened to be an eighty-year-old, former Jedi…it just was not likely, and seemed impossible.

And even if she plucked up this much courage, there was a ninety percent chance that it wouldn't work to her advantage; people surely would think that, just as Dooku had said to her, she had panicked in her new position and, eager to get out of it, attempted to vie for sympathy and numb the treachery of her move by accusing the Count of this most dreadful act.

And even then, it was both humiliating and terrifying – what would people say? And what would her parents think? Force, what would they think! And the scandal that would undoubtedly follow, too…oh, was it worth it?

 It was worth a lot to her…

She inhaled deeply, feeling hot tears threaten to burst forth from her eyes again, something she was just so fed up of, but incapable of halting; her honour and virtue depended on this. She'd like to just brush it all under the carpet and pretend that it hadn't happened, and that the Count was a perfectly amiable and decent man, and that she was on the right side of the war…but life just didn't work that way; she didn't work that way.

And even if she did find out the truth, she knew that she was scarred for life as it was; it would _never_ go away.

She glanced to her side; Serenn was looking at her, but, as soon as he saw her spot his scrutiny, he quickly glanced away again. She frowned a little, before returning her gaze straight-ahead, looking down the ever-darkening corridor. The lights weren't only now getting dimmer, they were getting redder, too. The décor around them changed from slightly warm, intricate and historical, to plain, metallic and industrial. Once they'd passed through the next door that they met across the passageway, one would believe that they had just entered a military base, not the lower levels of a mansion.

As this door hissed closed behind them, Padmé looked around the secretive control room beyond with amazement; the Count, meanwhile, walked on ahead, and sat down on the furthermost seat of a large, circular table, not dissimilar to the one that they'd gathered about on Geonosis.

"Where do I sit?" was the first thing she asked; it was also the first thing she'd said to him since he had left her in her room this morning, after their little 'talk'.

He opened a hand to his left, "Here," he said plainly.

She hesitated before she steadily began to pace round toward him; "Who else is coming?" she asked, looking around at all the empty seats about the table's edge.

Serenn favoured her with one of his gentle yet ominous smiles, "In presence, no one," he said, "But, via hologram, I expect everyone."

"Everyone?"

"From the Confederacy."

"Oh…"

She paced lightly and slowly about the table, running her hand along its smooth surface, her mind still very uneasy. Serenn's eyes followed her all the time, watching her face closely, sensing the severe discomfort and bewilderment that had piled up in the young Nubian's head, of which he was the source; a sickly smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he savoured this thought; he had power over her, and she, to some reluctant extent, knew it.

Suddenly, Padmé halted, her brow furrowing ever so slightly; she blinked several times, her eyes concentrated, before she lifted her gaze toward the Count. He returned it with thrice the intensity.

"You have the greatest weapon in your possession to use against the Republic," she uttered quietly, frowning all the while, "So why don't you use it? Why haven't you used it already?"

Serenn's eyebrows cocked very slightly, his self-satisfied leer never leaving his visage; he allowed a pause to pass before he leant forward a little and queried, " 'Greatest weapon'?" He ran a finger inattentively along the control panel set in the table before him, his tone startlingly leisurely and impassive.

"Yes," Padmé nodded firmly, irritated by his laconic attitude, and also annoyed at her own lack of foresight at not thinking of it before, "The Sith Lord. You know exactly who he is, yet you haven't even tried to use it against him, or the Republic? Why not use it for your own benefits?"

Dooku steadily slouched back in his seat, studying Padmé with a knowing look, before he silently shook his head and chuckled discreetly to himself, glancing down at the desk.

"What?" Padmé asked loudly, "What's so funny?" She placed her hands to her hips, and shook her head back at him, filled with irritation; "It's a gift! Why not use it?"

Serenn maintained his impassable smile and leant forward once more, asking gently, "What colour did your parents tell you the sky was, back on Naboo, when you were young?"

Padmé blinked, pondering whether he'd just gone mad; "Excuse me?"

"Well?" he pressed, latching his fingers together before him and resting them on the table whilst he continued to wait upon her for her reply.

She looked to the side, then back to him, "What are you talking about?" she asked.

His eyebrows rose a little further in response, pushing further for an answer.

She sighed reluctantly before saying, "Blue."

Serenn nodded, "And if I told you that it was red…?"

"I'd say that you'd have grown up on some other planet," she retorted, far from amused by his childish ploy.

He chuckled lightly, "Exactly so," he nodded, with a grin as wide as a nexu's.

"And your point being…?" Padmé sighed in vexation.

"My point being, madam," he replied swiftly, "That telling the Jedi, or indeed the Republic, that they are led by a Sith Lord is something akin to my trying to convince you that the Nubian sky is red."

She swallowed impatiently, taking a seat at where she stood, some distance from him over the table; "Have you even tried telling them?"

"_ 'Tried'_?" he scoffed, shaking his head, " _'_Tried', my dear? The Jedi are as good as deaf – the Dark side of the Force is growing, clouding their vision, and they cannot see the light of truth through the fog."

"Nice metaphor," she hissed astringently.

"Thank you," he rejoined equally curtly, "But it's true. You know yourself where the Senate and the Jedi's inaction has gotten them – did the Senate listen to your pleas ten years ago, regarding the Trade Federation's blockade? No. Did the Jedi believe my former Padawan when he concluded that a Sith Lord had attacked him on Tatooine, in your pursuit? Not until it was too late…"

"Hang on!" Padmé interrupted abruptly, giving the table a light slap, "Your 'former Padawan'…?"

Dooku nodded slowly, "Yes, Qui-Gon Jinn, my one-time protégé."

Padmé had to blink hard to make sure that she had heard him right, swallowing firmly; Qui-Gon, the most kind, if not a little reckless Jedi she'd ever met, who'd sacrificed himself on Naboo a decade ago, saved Anakin and trained Obi-Wan, had once been trained by Dooku?

"I was proud of him," the Count went on, "He became a fine Jedi, always thinking for himself, and doing what he knew was right. He kept his feet on the ground, he did…" He sighed, his mind filling with recollection, something of a truly saddened aura coming over his well-defined countenance, "His loss greatly affected me, and it was the last straw. I left the Order promptly after his death…or, should I say 'his murder'?"

"It made you leave the Jedi?" she asked him softly.

"It did in that it was the final catalyst," he replied candidly, "It was the last of many things that made me leave…I wasn't a 'good boy', you must understand, in the Order, but only because I chafed against rules that I found absurd to follow. I understand the Jedi's ignorance and idleness because I was once one of them; I've seen the inner workings of the Councils, and challenged them all countless times, earning myself a reputation and a long, long list of offences in the process – but they never did listen, and they still do not. Trust me, Padmé, when I say that the Jedi and the Republic would just laugh in my face if I pointed to Palpatine and yelled 'Sith'!"

Padmé leant her head onto her hand, sighing unenthusiastically, "Okay…I see your point," not wholly convinced by it all; she was too amazed at finding that she was in the presence of the man who had shaped and moulded the mind of a young Qui-Gon to think about that, though.

She looked across to him again, "When can I go home, then? I've got a lot to try and explain to my people. I'm probably the most hated and cursed person on my home planet by now…"

"We'll come to that," he smiled astutely.

"And can I tell them about Palpatine?" she asked.

He shrugged, his confidence and relaxed manner greatly unnerving her, "Tell them at your own peril, but the Jedi will no doubt be able to sway your people's beliefs otherwise. Palpatine knows that he is safe for the time being."

There was a long pause, by the end of which Padmé's brow creased profoundly once more; "How did you know?" she whispered, seeming to almost be talking to herself.

Serenn swallowed gently, observing her with curiosity, " 'Know', my dear?" he asked in response.

"About Palpatine being a Sith Lord," she went on, glaring hard at him, her mind fluttering with insecurity, "How did you know?"

Serenn looked at her hard, and gradually opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly, he was cut short by the incessant bleeping of the console before him. He inhaled deeply, and looked down to the console, whilst Padmé continued to study his visage vigorously.

Pushing a button, and flicking about a few small levers, his eyes rose to meet Amidala's again, and he ordered her abruptly, "Come here."

She didn't even think about disobeying him for some reason, and rose steadily to her feet, pacing round the table to his side; "Sit down," he added, occupied with flicking switches on his console. She slid slowly into the seat by his left, sitting as far toward its edge as she could to put some distance between them.

"We have company," he then explained, finally pressing one button, before then sitting back and waiting.

Suddenly, electrical hums burst to life from each of the seats about the table, projecting life-size holograms of all of the Separatist allies, giving the illusion that they were all sat round here together. Padmé looked about each of them as they joined the Count and her via holoproj'; there was Hill, Argente, Mai, Tambor…everyone. And, of course, there was Nute Gunray, his hologram coming forth in the seat right next to hers at the last moment.

She sighed with disgruntlement, certain that the Count had done this on purpose; at least she couldn't smell him, she thought, one good reason to convene via hologram. Nute turned his fuzzing, holographic eyes upon her, and looked likely to start to shout in protest at being practically sat next to Padmé Amidala – but the Count started talking before he could, and forced him to hold his tongue.

"My colleagues and friends, welcome…I must first thank you all for getting in touch with me so swiftly," he eyed Gunray for a brief moment, knowing that the Trade Federation had been far from fleet in their contact of him; "And I also must extend my apologies to you for failing to organise an assembly where we could meet in person again, as I recall I earlier promised; but time is short and the Republic grows strong; we are safer meeting this way.

"We are still recovering from our blow at the Republic's hands and, as I'm sure you will all agree, it is imperative that we now strike a severe blow against them, and hit them hard where they least expect it. We need to prove that we are still in the game."

"So what are your plans for our next move, Count?" Passel Argente queried in his slow, slithering tone, his every syllable hissing mechanically through the holoprojector interface, "As you said yourself, the Republic grows strong. Their army is being spread throughout the galaxy, just waiting to engage us…we are powerless if we do not unite again soon."

"Yes, I agree," Serenn nodded, "And that is exactly what the Republic is expecting us to do – they are certain that we will reconvene."

["_But we need to, Count,_"] Shu Mai objected, ["_Our armies have been devastated by that one recent battle on Geonosis…we cannot each go on alone – they will wipe us out too easily! We _must_ reunite_!"]

"Not necessarily…" Dooku went on, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, a flash of brilliance seeming to spark in his eyes, "But we must operate under the _pretext_ that we are strong and reunited…"

["_I do not follow you, Count_,"] chirped Poggle the Lesser, having the misfortune of being on Gunray's other side – he too was certain that Serenn had decided to place him there on purpose, knowing of his severe dislike for the Neimoidian viceroy.

Padmé gave Dooku a look of discontent – she didn't know exactly what was going on, unable to understand Poggle and Shu, and confounded as to what the Count had up his sleeve, seeing the enthused glow in his eyes.

"The Senate will expect us to reunite and prey on the weak, knowing that we will feel stronger with more numbers behind us. In other words, they believe that we will attempt to align more systems to our cause," Dooku continued, staring over each of the holograms assembled in turn.

"Isn't that what we are going to do?" Senator Tikkes piped, steepling his fingers leisurely, "The more systems in our league, the better."

The Count grinned; "My dear Senator, since when have I followed convention?" he smirked suavely, "Of course, we don't wish to disappoint the Republic, so we will appear to do such…but we will also take them for fools at the same time, and teach them to try and predict our movements."

The entire gathering looked upon Dooku expectantly, leaving no doubts as to why he was the leader.

"Well, come on, old boy, speak up!" San ushered him impatiently, seeing that the Count had much more to say.

Dooku relaxed back into his seat, satisfaction saturating his countenance, "Listen closely, my friends, I believe that I have a plan."

Padmé turned to Serenn swallowing hard, and, with the rest of the gathering, listened closely to the charismatic separatist's scheme…

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"**W**e deprive the Jedi of their Chosen One, then we deprive the galaxy of the Jedi. Their numbers are dwindling, their powers weakening…when the right moment arises, we will make the Republic see the true vanity of their Jedi protectors; we make them lose faith and we move in and conquer. None will survive, and a new Order will finally arise! Oh, it is delicious – don't you agree, Tyranus?"

"…"

"Tyranus?"

"…"

"_Tyranus_!"

"Master?" Serenn blinked out of his reverie as he finally heard the vicious voice of his Sith mentor tear down his ear canal; he stared at the hologram of his master sheepishly, shaking his head and refocusing himself on what the Sith Lord was saying.

"Pay attention!" Sidious snarled, "I expect to have to tell a teenager that, but an octogenarian, Tyranus? Honestly…"

Tyranus sighed, "Apologies, my lord."

"Apologies?" Sidious scoffed, "I don't want your 'apologies'! I want your attention!"

Dooku shook his head once more, exhaling steadily to calm himself before Sidious even started to wind him up; it was a couple of hours since the Separatist convention, and Dooku was back in his secret little communications room, informing his Master of exactly what the Separatists were planning to do so that, in turn, Sidious could orchestrate the Republic to his will. They were playing this war game together, each knowing where the other's next move would be, and each putting lives on the line with knowledge of whether or not they would be spared.

The Sith Master went balefully silent for a moment as he studied his apprentice's features exhaustively, peering out from beneath the shadow of his hood; "What is occupying your mind, my apprentice?" he asked Dooku pryingly, his eyes, though only present via the illusion of the hologram, loading a huge weight onto the elder warrior's shoulders, "You are not focused."

Serenn looked into the darkness of Sidious' hood, before replying steadily, "It's nothing, Master."

"I remind you not to lie to me, Tyranus," Sidious ordered him blandly, his subdued tone more frightening than anything he yelled in wrath, "But, seeing as you are not willing to share it, may we continue?"

"Yes, my Master," Tyranus nodded in reply, keeping his intense eyes on his mentor.

"The Confederacy are going for a new tactic then – a two way assault, in essence?"

"Well, I wouldn't call either an 'assault'…just your regular 'distraction', my Lord."

"Excellent…this will finally give you your chance to take that wretched planet…"

"You definitely want me to take it, then?"

"Oh yes…haven't we already decided this?"

"I was just confirming it, my Lord. But I will still meet resistance there…?"

"Yes…but the resistance from the Republic will be belated. We will make sure that your ploy planet-takeover gets the most attention until it is too late. And you can have that planet, too, for all I care – it is of little concern to me. I can always take it back when the New Order is in place, can I not?"

"Yes, my Lord. See my Confederacy's taking it now as a long term lease."

Sidious cackled, "You do have a sense of humour when you wish to reveal it, my friend," he smirked dryly, his hologram flickering out of proportion briefly due to sudden interference, before returning to its normal shape, "And who is taking charge of your 'ruse'?"

"San Hill, my Lord…though I believe Gunray would have appreciated the power; he feels that I owe him something after his Federation lost so many droids on Geonosis."

"Typical old Gunray," Sidious mused snidely, "And you do have enough arms to pull this off, don't you?"

"Yes…security has become surprisingly slack around Geonosis, and Poggle has several batches of new droids already prepared for despatch. I have the Corporate Alliance on their way there now…"

"Ah, yes…I foresaw your need to return to Geonosis, so was…conveniently 'slack' with security around that area, when my forces were sent out recently around the galaxies."

"I thank you for your prudence, my Lord."

Sidious wafted a hand toward him, thinking in the ensuing pause. "I believe that we can bring the Chosen One into this equation, too," he suddenly deduced.

Tyranus' lip curled, "Anakin?" he growled, his eyes burning with a steady fire.

Sidious chuckled dryly at his protégé's rage, "Patience, old friend. Let the boy disgrace the Jedi and pull himself away from their cause. We will orchestrate some trouble for him. He still cares deeply for Miss. Amidala – perhaps we can lure him out to you once more, and you can have that rematch you so much wanted, yes?"

Dooku thought about this for a moment, "Yes…" he mused thoughtfully, "I will see… As long as Padmé –"

"Oh, on first name terms now, are we?" Sidious interrupted with a sinister grin.

Dooku continued, ignoring him, "As long as Padmé remains by my side no matter what the outcome of this 'rematch'; the longer I hold her, the further Anakin will fall. If he comes close to reclaiming her this next time, but narrowly misses, he'll only be further enraged by it all."

"Oh yes, I agree – it's a perfect opportunity to knock him down a few more pegs from the Light side," Sidious nodded grimly, "Keep her, Tyranus; do as you wish with her. By the time Anakin will be able to have her back, it will be too late."

Tyranus nodded, lowering himself to one knee as he felt the approach of his Master's departure, "Or it already is…" he added discreetly.

**TBC…**


	17. Balance

**Author's Notes: **Took me a while to get going on this chapter, but I made it through – I've made a leap in time, but I felt it was necessary to not only move the story on, but to get me to where I needed to get. Tell me if I go too fast or ought – I really don't want to ruin things and make it all seem rushed.

In another 'announcement', I'm going to split Eclipse into two parts – the second part will take place about a year after the first, but it'll still be archived here under this one file. It's another (though bigger) leap in time that I feel I need to make when I'm ready, though I'll make sure I can pull it off without missing too much out first.

Also, if you ask me any questions or make suggestions in your reviews, I'll put them up in the 'Fan Corner' of the _Eclipse FL[1]_ site – spoilers and all. Read at own risk. ^_^

**Shadow-Angel:** Thankies! I hope I can keep you entertained!

**Strider's Girl:** what is this 'happy ending'…? ^_~ Hey, the real _Episode III_ isn't going to end happily anyway, so there's lil hope for when I get there in this dark fic!

**Merrymoll:** I wrote that 'sky analogy' thing when I was on the train, my way to London, to see the great Christopher Lee himself, back in May – but I don't know where it came from! Perhaps it had something to do with my head being in the clouds…^_^ LOL. And when Anakin does get to Dooku, all Hell will break loose…I hope I can pull it off!

**theroguephoenix:** Have we met before? ^_^ Welcome if not! And I'll keep updating as fast as I can, but I do try to be thorough with my chapters!

**PadawanMage:** Dooku told Padmé about Sidious/Palpy in Chapter 1! ^_^ And I want you to be confused, and to guess about everything – that's the fun of being an author! Reader manipulation! Mwa ha ha! u_u Heh. Keep reading!

**bexmix:** Writing Padmé has been really difficult, so I'm glad it seems convincing. I mean, trying to write someone who believes they've been…erm…'abused', yet isn't completely sure, and has to live with that, and try and cooperate with the man she suspects of the crime is very hard. I'm doing my best. ^_^ Thanks!

**Kathy:** Welcome to _Eclipse_ – I don't think we've met, have we? I used to know a Kathy on Chris Lee's site, but there's gonna be more than one of you online, right? ^_^ I'll go as fast as I can, but again, I try to be thorough…and I'm writing two fics at once, to add to that!

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 17**

**B**oba watched out of the hangar door as around a hundred ships, filled with Battle Droids, both traditional and super, and the infamous Droidekas, rose into the air, making up the new and improved fleet of the Confederate Army. He was bored, still on Geonosis, and still insensitive to the goings on around him; nothing meant much to him now that his dad wasn't there; he didn't have any one to guide him and little direction of his own…he just had his father's ship, _Slave 1_, his father's helmet, and whatever else was left in the hull of his father's old vessel. And he had the company of Poggle the Lesser, of course, the incomprehensible Archduke…

Boba currently held his father's helmet under his arm – he hadn't let it out of his sight since the Geonosian battle, often putting it on to see what it looked like. It was still a bit too big for him, meaning that he couldn't see out of the visor properly, but he knew basically how to work it, his father having taught him about virtually all of his contraptions and weapons.

He sighed, hanging his head, his mop of black hair swaying in the warm, uncomfortable breeze that flittered in through the hangar door from the Geonosian desert beyond.

Suddenly, young Fett heard the 'tap, tap' of Poggle's cane approaching from behind. He turned with a groan, setting his hard, dark eyes on the haughty Geonosian as he approached him, accompanied by some large, cloak-covered guy with a frightening, reptilian visage.

["_It has been the hardest few days of my life_!"] Poggle sighed melodramatically, wafting his spindly arm toward the young boy, ["_We two do not understand one another, so communication has been impossible. I don't know what Count Dooku was thinking, leaving the brat here with me_."]

Boba glared between Poggle and his guest suspiciously, giving them both an unwelcoming look, his senses telling him that he was the subject of their conversation.

"The Count has had better things to do than care for some second-rate, clone child…" Passel Argente hissed, as though he too presumed the boy would not hear or understand him.

Boba's stare intensified upon the scaly magistrate of the Corporate Alliance…'second-rate' indeed.

["_The boy was _his_ responsibility. He employed his father, so he should automatically take guardianship for the child_,"] Poggle went on.

"And where do I come into this?" Argente queried abruptly, becoming rather impatient – he wanted to get on with things and get away from this wretched planet, so that he could move on to his next destination, as requested by the Count, as soon as possible; Geonosis was bad news to him, and he didn't fancy being cornered here for another ground battle by the Republic again.

Poggle gestured toward Boba, inducing him to approach, ["_Please, take him with you. I have more than enough on my hands here, with ongoing repairs to my foundries running side-by-side with the manufacture of the Count's droids. Give the boy over to him as soon as you can_."]

Argente turned a grisly stare upon the young clone of Jango, an indiscreet hiss emerging between his riveted lips, "With me?" he growled, "I can do without little boys on my vessels. We will not be seeing the Count for some time – you know he is not coming with us."

Poggle was now becoming annoyed with Argente, and pursed his lips for a brief moment, before continuing in as agreeable a nature as he could, ["_I did say _please_. I cannot care for him here, and he at least can understand you, my dear Magistrate. He will be little trouble, he is an independent young lad_."]

"If he is anything other than silent, I will tear out his voice box and make him eat it for his supper!" Passel hissed vilely, clenching a tight fist toward Poggle. Boba tried to remain unmoved, but couldn't help but put his hand to his throat, concerned for his voice's welfare. 

["_You will take him, then_?"] Poggle asked optimistically, seemingly indifferent as to what happened to Boba once the boy was out of his hands.

"Fine," the magistrate nodded, "But I won't be doing you any more favours, Archduke. Understood?"

Poggle nodded rapidly, ["_Yes, yes_…"] he sighed, wafting a hand toward Argente, ["_I will not forget_."]

The magistrate slowly gestured for Boba to come to him, "Get together your things. You're coming with me."

"What about my dad's ship?" Boba asked him sourly, reluctant to go with him, "I can't leave it here."

"You can fetch it when you're old enough," Passel snapped, "I'm doing you a wholly uncalled for favour, so come along silently, or I'll make you a permanent mute! Do we understand one another?"

Young Fett's gaze tightened on Argente once again, but he thought that the sooner he managed to away from Poggle, the better, so opted to behave himself. Hopefully it wouldn't be long until Dooku took him back under his wing – the Count had been good to his father, so, with any luck, the Count would be good to him, too.

"Yes, sir," Boba nodded gruffly in response to Argente's brusque query, "I understand you completely."

"Good," Passel snarled, grabbing the boy by the arm, and ushering him along, "Now hurry up and get your things. We have a war to instigate!"

Boba's lip twitched in irritation as the magistrate took a firm hold on his arm; he yanked it out of his grasp and tottered off as quickly as he could. Poggle watched him go, shaking his head, ["_More than I've been able to get him to do all week_,"] he griped.

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**_2_**_ weeks later…_

The dust of the Geonosian conflicts seemed to have long settled now, but, though the war was 'on', things had been ominously quiet in the Republic. Apart from two minor skirmishes at Iridonia and Carida respectively, there had been no other clashes between Republican and Separatists forces. Some impatient persons speculated that the Separatists had little or no arsenal left, with it all having been knocked out on Geonosis, but the majority knew better than that; the Separatists, where ever they were, were quietly regrouping and preparing to strike…

And it took them a fortnight to finally make their next move in this giant game of intergalactic chess:

"They're at Sullust."

The entire gathering in the Supreme Chancellor's office stared at Mace Windu in a numb disbelief as he made this announcement concerning the movements of the seemingly inert Separatists.

"Sullust?" Bail Antilles asked in return, just to break the uneasy silence.

"Yes, and our sources confirm complete with reinforcements," Windu assented gravely, his hands clasped behind his back, his tone solemn.

"I thought we had depleted their forces on Geonosis?" Senator Orn Free Taa asked in his deep baritone, rubbing one of his fat-filled lekkus in gesture.

"We obviously didn't make a good enough job of it," Palpatine interjected sharply, sat back in his large, black chair, his eyes icy and focused; "I'm guessing that the entire planet was not covered in the late conflicts?"

"It would have taken a long time to find all of the Droid foundries on that planet during our first assault," Windu returned, "And our priority had been to rescue our allies. We knew that we'd face resistance, but the exact amount of hardware that they stored there came as quite a surprise. At least we still managed to defeat them, prescience on Master Yoda's behalf telling him to come well equipped."

"A mere setback for them, though, wasn't it?" Palpatine continued, seeming to be subtly placing blame on the Jedi for this, "They've bounced back from what seemed to us to have been a colossal blow."

Windu eyed him hard for a moment, before the Supreme Chancellor went on with the talks, addressing all assembled, which included several Senators and a few Jedi, "The Separatists must be stopped. We cannot allow them to conquer more planets. We need to demonstrate to the Republic the worth of this Army we have given them. The Separatists must be engaged, and their leader, Count Dooku, arrested."

"Then you plan to deploy a fleet immediately to Sullust?" Bail queried with a concerned edge to his voice, his arms folded tightly over his chest.

"You suggest that we don't?" Palpatine returned, registering the unease in the tone of the Senator of Alderaan.

"I believe that we should try talks first," Bail replied certainly.

There was a murmur amongst the back row of Senators and Jedi in the office. Palpatine leant forward, his elbows perched upon his desk, as he concentrated his gaze on the pacifistic Antilles, "We're at war, Senator," he stated bluntly, "Time for talking is over."

"We must at least try!" Bail continued, his arms unfolding as he gesticulated indomitably with them, "We may yet stop this war before it even truly starts!"

Bail's eyes traversed the Chancellor's chamber as unconvinced whispers once again rose from inconspicuous mouths. He sighed, adding, "And besides, there's something amiss. There are a million other more worthwhile things for Count Dooku to be doing besides taking Sullust, a minor conquest for his forces – going to fully claim Naboo for a start. I don't understand his logic…it could be a trap."

Mace nodded; "Plus," he said, raising his voice again, "Reports confirm that the Trade Federation is not present with the other Confederate forces."

Antilles mused over this point, "Strange," he remarked, "Something is wrong. They have safety in numbers – they know this. Why would they split up?"

"We can't afford to wait to find out exactly what's amiss, though, can we?" Palpatine interposed once more, "Sullust must be contained, as a symbolic gesture if nothing else – how will our great Army look if we lose a planet like that so promptly in the war? We must give our people confidence in the Army, and therefore, in the Republic; they must be convinced to remain loyal to us, and not to split and join the Count's movement."

"I agree," Mas Amedda, flanking Palpatine from behind nodded, his intimidating blue eyes converging upon Bail, "The majority of the Republic will start to convert if we do not prove our worth. The Separatists must be stopped."

"Then let us try both suggestions in tandem," Bail insisted, his voice becoming suddenly more biting and forceful, his eyes filling with an elusive maelstrom, "Let us dispatch two low-profile ambassadors ahead of the fleet you wish to send. Let them attempt negotiation with the Separatists, and, if these should come to no avail, or if they are caught in a trap, we can have the fleet follow in twenty-four hours to begin a more vigorous offensive."

A few people thought this over, an uneasy silence hovering like a stale mist in the air. Palpatine looked at Antilles, the cogs turning and ticking in his mind as he tapped his fingers together in contemplation; "As long as we don't have a replay of the scenario back at Naboo ten years ago, when two of our ambassadors got into particular bother… If the Separatists are as underhanded as the Federation, which, must I remind you, now serves as part of it, then we may be sending our 'ambassadors' straight to their deaths. I do not wish for that to happen."

"Then let me send Master Kenobi," Mace suggested, stepping to Bail's side and offering him moral support, "He was one of those ambassadors of the Nubian crisis, of which you now speak. I'm sure his experience will help him to avoid such happening again."

Palpatine exhaled deeply, before giving his head a slight nod and saying, "Fine, then. Though I will suggest that you accompany him, Master Jedi. Better a pair of Knights go to sort out this dilemma than a Padawan and his or her Master."

"Excellent," Bail concurred, turning to Mace and giving him a forthcoming smile, "I think this sounds like a plan."

Windu gave Palpatine another long stare, before steadily nodding, and saying, "Yes…let's do it."

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**O**bi-Wan smiled gently at the infants in the Temple crèche. He didn't come here often – infact, he rarely came here – but sometimes, when he felt stressed or burdened, it relieved and relaxed him to watch the youngest members of the Jedi Order play and learn, filled with innocence, naivety and an ignorance he sometimes envied.

He smiled, watching a couple of two-year-old human children tumble over as they played with a large ball, both very young and having as of yet poor balance on their unsteady feet. It made his mind roll back and recall his time as a child in the Temple, when life seemed so great, and you thought being a Jedi was the greatest thing that you could ever be.

Most of the candidates before him were barely eighteen months old – but the younger the age that they came into the Temple, the better. Obi-Wan had no memory of the early years of his life other than that of the crèche. Apparently, he had been here, on Coruscant with the Jedi since he was born, a most strange fact considering that many children were not entered into the Order until they were a few months old, at least – it took that long to determine whether or not a child had any affinity to the Force. He could only gather that his parents had suffered some incredible misfortune and had been forced to give him up immediately after his birth, the Council already knowing of the Force abilities he possessed. Perhaps his parents were even dead, and he had been left an orphan.

Perhaps…

"Obi-Wan, it's wonderful to see you again!"

Kenobi turned, coming out of his gentle reverie, and set his eyes on one of the nursery assistants, Madam Della[2]; she was a Jedi Knight herself but, like Jocasta Nu in the Archives, had long worked in the crèche, preferring to focus her Jedi career on the younglings that entered into the Order rather than utilise her skills in combat or in other fields. She had worked in the crèche since Obi could remember, he himself having been looked after by her as a toddler. As a result, she was now getting on in years, but her enthusiasm for the Temple's youngest candidates never seemed to waver; Obi-Wan admired that kind of patience and dedication in people, something that it was becoming hard to find in the ravaged society of the day, even in the ranks of the Jedi.

"Greetings, Madam Della" he nodded, giving her a bow of courtesy in return.

She smiled at him fondly, "My, you make me feel old," she said, "A fully grown Knight now, complete with beard and all… Oh, I remember when you were but this big." She held her hand a little more than two feet from the ground, looking into Kenobi's eyes cordially. Obi just chuckled, shaking his head and blushing slightly at her comments.

She sighed, bringing her hand back to her side, and studied Kenobi's visage meticulously, "My, you look so much like your mother…" she mused inattentively, as though she were speaking her thoughts aloud.

Obi-Wan paused, his smile fading and his gaze concentrating hard upon his old guardian; "You knew my mother?" he asked her quietly, his throat seeming suddenly dry.

Slowly, Madam Della rose her hand to her mouth, shaking her head faintly in gesture, "Oh my," she gasped, "I shouldn't have said that…" She looked genuinely upset, as though she had committed a great wrong by revealing such to him, and Obi-Wan pitied her – everyone let their tongues slip once in a while – but this meant a lot to him, he who had never known even from which planet he had come, he who had absolutely no idea who his real parents were. Most Padawans and Knights had vague ideas of their ancestry, allowed to know the basic facts and taught to settle with that – to know any more was considered dangerous, for to get too attached to one's past could prove treacherous for any Jedi. The firmest bonds a Padawan ever made with anyone in the Order was that with their master. Kenobi's Master, Qui-Gon, had meant everything to him, seeing as he'd had no family to be able to think of, or even know about, but now it would seem to Obi-Wan that things had been kept from him, and his past wasn't as mysterious as he had formerly deliberated…

"You knew her, though?" Obi pushed on gently, trying not to seem too forceful, his mind boggling as to how Madam Della would have made her acquaintance.

Madam Della nodded a little, "Oh, Obi-Wan, I was never supposed to say a word, but…oh, you just _looked_ so much like her then…so much like her… You see, I knew her so well, and…"

"It's okay," he nodded, giving her shoulder an affectionate and accommodating rub, "I'll tell no one. It wasn't your fault. It's just…well, I never knew who my parents even _were_. Didn't even know if _anyone_ knew!"

She gave him another sympathetic smile in return, "You're curious – you have a right to be, and a right to know who your parents were, especially now – you've long been an adult, and are more than mature enough – but the Council has spoken, and they believe that they know best. Forgive me, Obi-Wan – I didn't mean to load any more burden onto your shoulders, especially not now, at this point in time, with the war and all."

"Really, it's no problem," he assured her, though he ached to know more; he looked about warily, checking that the coast was clear, "But – I know that I shouldn't ask you this…it'll only make things worse for me, I know – but, well…can you tell me if she's still alive? My mother?"

Della gave him another compassionate smile, treating Obi-Wan almost as a son, perhaps in debt to the woman she had known so well, who had given birth to him; "I'm afraid not, Obi-Wan," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Kenobi looked down, this all seeming so weird, to finally hear something of his parents, things that he now knew the Council had chosen to keep from him; "And my father?" he added.

Madam Della now bit her lip gently, pausing a moment before replying in an even lower tone, "He lives still. But, please Obi-Wan, do not delve any further into the matter – the Council felt it best that you didn't know so I believe that it is best that you don't. I'm sure they have good reason for protecting you so."

Obi-Wan nodded once more, trying to take all of this in, "I don't look like my father, then?" he asked her, a weak smile pricking at the corners of his mouth, presuming that Madam Della had known him, too.

She chuckled, shaking her head; "You're your mother's image…though I believe I'd be right to say that you're more like him on the inside." She gave his arm a warm stroke, "Now ask me no more – I'll be rebuked if the Council hear that I have spoken." She bowed to him and returned to the children in the crèche, leaving Kenobi alone with his suddenly restless thoughts. But he didn't have time to mull over things for too long as Master Windu suddenly approached him:

"Obi-Wan!" the Jedi Master called as he came down the corridor, toward the crèche, "I knew I'd find you where I least expected!"

Kenobi bowed to Windu reverentially, "I commend your foresight, my Master," he smiled.

Windu nodded as he reached his Jedi comrade, and put an arm to his back, ushering him to walk along beside him, away from the nursery; "I need a word with you, my friend," he said, his tone becoming more solemn, "But first, how is Anakin doing? Still training hard?"

Kenobi sighed, the encumbrance that was his troubled Padawan coming back to his mind; "Yes," he assented dully, "I'm worried, Master…he won't let me help him, or even talk to him. He's locked me out completely! I don't know what to do – I'm the bad guy if I tell him to stop, and the bad guy if I let him be and ignore him!"

"Let him be," Windu advised, "He's still under a lot of pressure, with 'the Chosen One' to his name, and with him having gone through so much as of late… He'll calm down."

"But it's been a good sixteen days since the battle on Geonosis as it is! How much longer will I have to wait for him to 'calm down'?" Kenobi continued, waving his hands about passionately as they began to ascend a flight of steps, up toward the Temple's secondary training veranda, the largest next to the innovatively named primary training veranda.

"Well, he may do when you're not around."

"Not around?"

Mace nodded, "Yes. We're going to Sullust, Master Kenobi."

"Sullust?" Kenobi exclaimed, "Now? I can't go without Anakin!"

"You can, Master Kenobi – and you must. We are ordered to go together and, due to the true gravity of the mission and of the times, we're not to have Padawans accompany us. We go for swift, and I pray successful, negotiations with the Separatist forces."

Obi-Wan shook his head, halting in his tracks as they reached the top of the flight of stairs; a small group of Younglings were learning about balance in the far corner, trying to get all the way across a balancing beam without tipping and falling off. If the two conversing Jedi had bothered to pay attention, then they would have noticed how few of the infantile cadets were actually successful in this exercise.

"I can't leave Anakin whilst he's in this state," Kenobi insisted; there was a high-pitched cry in the background as a Youngling fell from the thin beam onto the crash mat, his friends giggling but then helping him back to his feet whilst the next aspirant prepared to take a turn. Jedi Master Adi Gallia, who was currently tutoring the group, smiled at them benevolently, most proud of the empathy and collaboration that the children were showing toward one another.

"You said yourself he's not paying you any heed," Windu reminded Obi-Wan, "Let him be alone for a while – he may then think twice about dismissing you."

Kenobi sighed again, nodding reluctantly – besides, an order was an order; "Okay, I understand, Master."

Mace nodded, patting Obi on the shoulder, "We'll leave tonight – meet me in the central hangar, " he said, "And I think it best that you don't inform Anakin of where we're going. Use a bit of reverse psychology – lock him out for a bit." He smiled warmly, his bright teeth shining, "May the Force be with you," he then said, bowing in a departing gesture to his friend, and taking his leave of him. Kenobi nodded, and steadily turned about, looking over to the group that Adi was training; yet another child fell from the beam, rolling down onto the crash mats with a mild thump. Kenobi chuckled, looking at Adi cheerily; she shook her head and shrugged in return, whilst the children went over to help the balance beam's latest victim…

*******************************************************************************************

**A**nakin returned to he and his Master's chamber in the afternoon after another hard day of training, only to find his Master packing some supplies and loading his belt with food capsules. Ani frowned, watching Obi-Wan for a moment; when it became apparent that his mentor wasn't going to address him, he asked, "Where are you going, Master?"

Obi sighed, turning to Anakin after a sombre pause, "I'm…going away," he replied in a low and distracted tone.

Anakin blinked once, as though he didn't register what his Master was saying; he skulked into the room and slid down onto one of the low, circular seats in the centre of their apartment's main chamber, crossing his legs upon it and looking to Kenobi hard whilst he continued to fill his belt with provisions.

"Where?" Anakin pressed; he could tell already that his Master was not going to say much if he could help it.

Obi-Wan didn't reply, choosing to change the subject instead, something he always managed to do when he had something to hide or was uncomfortable with the matter; "I don't know how long I'll be gone, Anakin, but promise me that you'll behave. And don't keep training so hard – you could do with a few days rest. Go help out a little in the botanical gardens or take a relaxing swim in the pools, or something. Please, Ani, it won't hurt you…"

Anakin made the 'not another lecture' face, "Master, I'm not a child anymore. I'll do what I like."

"You're a Padawan, Anakin. You'll do as you're told," Obi-Wan rejoined sharply, turning to Anakin with a stern glare, placing his hands to his hips.

There was a tense pause as they eyed one another hard. Anakin refused to give way, so it was Kenobi who was forced to back out first; he turned away, heaving a hefty sigh and walking over to the far windows of the room.

"So, where are you going, Master?" Anakin continued, "You didn't answer me."

"Anakin, it's an important mission, and I'm forbidden to take you, so the location doesn't matter."

"Why can't I go?" he asked raucously, "Is it because I'm apparently 'wounded'?" He raised his metallic arm up before him, wriggling the finger pieces about in gesture, hurt that he was to be separated from his Master when an important mission was on the cards.

"No, Ani, it's more to do with your lack of field experience – no Padawans would be allowed to go," Kenobi assured him, turning back to face his boisterous Padawan with a firm stare, "Trust me."

"But Master –"

"No, Anakin, you are not coming! And you will behave whilst I'm gone. If you begin to misbehave again I'll have to start finding you a sitter to look after you, like I had to when you were younger."

"Ha ha!" Anakin sneered, in no mood to make or take any jests.

Obi smirked, trying to lighten the aura of the moment a little, "Chin up, Anakin," he grinned, "I may send you a postcard[3]."

**TBC…**

  


* * *

[1] **imperial-palace.tripod.com/eclipse/**

[2] Just a slight mention – I made up this character, but named her after a wonderful teacher I had in Reception class when I was 5 years old. She left the year I moved up into Year 1, so I never saw her again, but she was great, the perfect teacher for young children. Just a lil something for her, though I doubt she'd ever read this (God forbid!). And it's been 13 years now anyway since I last saw her! O_0 Whoah!

[3] No, I don't know if they have postcards in the SW universe, but I can't think of a decent substitute in this context – go with the flow! ^_^


	18. Taking the Bait

**Author's Notes: **We just had a heck of a thunderstorm here a couple of days ago! It left a funny smell in our hallway…in the end, my sisters and I found out that the phone had blown! Seriously. I also managed to get caught in the beginnings of this storm with my dog – we stood under a tree for several minutes as the rain came crashing down, until she began to get bored, and something told me that the rain wasn't going to stop any time soon, so we legged it home and got rather soaked – it beat waiting under a tree for a couple of hours or so for the rain to stop, though! And all that is completely irrelevant to this story! ^_^ A small insight into the plain and simple life of Jurious, living in a suburb, in the virtually unheard-of city of Lincoln, which was once the second most important city in Britain… Honestly. But we were called Lindum then and overrun by Romans. But I digress… o_0

**Strider's Girl:** Heh – I was just messing, I know what you meant! ^_^ And your 'feelings' are well justified – or at least 50% of them. Hint. (PS: Seen the 'Return of the King' trailer…? Trés cool!)

**Merrymoll:** I think Boba can take care of his sen – I haven't really thought much about his future, but it'll be all right, I promise you! And I'm leaving the Obi-dad theorem out in the open for a while. ^_^ Let the reader's have a lil fun with thinking about it first. The clues are there already, though, but they're subtle. 

And _of course_ everything'll go pear-shaped – that's what stories are for! ^_^

**PadawanMage:** Sullust, according to the SW Factfile, is on the Outer Rim border, near Eriadu (Tarkin's home planet). Can't say much more about it, I'm afraid! I just chose it for no apparent reason! Thought I may as well use it…^_^ And Obi _definitely_ looks like his mom if Yoda has anything to do with it! LOL. And the postcard notion with the Twi'lek beach-babes? Heh – class! If I ever get time, I'll try and make one up like that on Photoshop! ^_~

**Shadow-Angel:** Here's some more for you!

**Silverphoenix:** Well, thank you! u_u I'm flattered that you like my work so much. And I know it's twisted, but there's nothing better than going against convention once in a while, right? Keep reading!

**Kathy:** I'm glad you like it! I'll try and keep up the suspense. ^_^

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 18**

/**H**is eyes upon your face/

"Padmé…"

/His hand upon your hand/

"Don't forget…"

  
/His lips caress your skin/

"Don't give in…"

  
/IT'S MORE THAN I CAN STAND!/[1]

"_Padmé_!!" 

Anakin's eyes shot open, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he greedily swallowed the air about him; his heart was racing, starving for oxygen. Staring up at the ceiling, he found that his bed covers were stuck to him once again, soaked in his sweat. It had been yet another nightmare…

He sighed, running his hand back over his head, before wiping his eyes, attempting to steadily calm himself; these foul dreams were only getting worse. He couldn't leave it much longer. But he hadn't nearly trained enough to become any better a fighter. It was only becoming more evident to him, as he tried and tried to train, with only himself as a guide, that he needed some form of outside assistance, someone to help him become stronger, to direct him along the right way. And with Kenobi not around at the moment even if he _wanted_ to ask him for his help, Ani was at a loss as to whom he could invite to help him achieve his goals.

It was no use…there was no one who would, or even could help him.

*******************************************************************************************

**S**ullust was a volcanic planet, with a most nauseous atmosphere that spanned all the way over its red-brown surface. However, a book should never be read by its cover, and this gaseous, blazing exterior hid a sophisticated and glorious subterranean civilisation within, one that existed solely below the surface of the globe. The finest minerals could be found in the planet's lower caverns, many of which were mined and exported for fine prices, as well as the richest of spices and the greatest metals, plus cheap yet durable plastics were harboured and produced there as well; it was easy to see why Sullust was renowned for having some of the finest manufacture and craftsmanship in the universe, having all of these marvellous materials at its disposal, and having a populace with the skills to match.

However, despite these obvious commercial gains, Sullust had little to offer the Confederacy of Independent systems, at least little of what it hadn't got already. And its trading protocol was unlike those of which the Techno Union and Commerce Guilds were so notorious for adopting – Sullustans were a pleasant people, and commended for being sound businessmen, never resorting to underhand tactics in the name of personal gain, rather sticking to simple and reputable transactions. Not to say that they were not a flawless people – amongst other things, they were a little xenophobic, and quite paranoid. 

The Confederacy could hold advantages for them, however, and with business-related interests much at its heart, the planet Sullust looked to be an easy target, but one that the Republic was reluctant to allow slip so early in the intergalactic hostilities…

Obi-Wan sighed, hyperspace blurring out of the window before him as he sat within his trusty Jedi Starfighter. Or his latest trusty Jedi Starfighter – this wasn't the same one he had used recently in his misadventures, but they were all the same in his eyes. To keep the nature of their mission as calm as possible, the decision had been made for the two Jedi to travel in unarmed and small vessels to meet with the Separatists – this meant getting back into a Jedi Starfighter, taking a hyperdrive-ring out of capital space, and travelling into the distant regions of the Republic – which meant a good few hours flight, seeing as Sullust was right on the Republic/Outer Rim boundary. He and Windu were obviously in separate starfighters, each craft only able to fit one Jedi, and one droid co-pilot out on the wing, at any one time. They were quick and agile craft, their only down side being that they were so nimble that they didn't have room for their own hyperdrives, so required the use of giant hyperdrive-rings to get them further than a few parsecs into space.

Obi-Wan looked down over the control interface of his craft, trying to find something interesting to focus his attention on; he couldn't stay peaceful enough to meditate – his mind was buzzing too frantically, too full of worries, anxieties and curiosities to be able to rest for a while. For one thing, he was incredibly sceptical about negotiations with the Separatists (if they even got as far as talking with them, that is); he thought that Bail was being way too optimistic if he thought that both sides were willing to back down and resolve everything over lunch, finishing with the complementary handshake, and 'Sorry about all that trouble'. He knew better – he and Mace may just get a couple of words in before the Separatists would tell them to 'push off' and a battle would ensue. Perhaps Palpatine was right – perhaps they should have just sent in the ships to force the Confederacy to back away. Or they could have even just left it, seeing as Sullust wouldn't be an immense loss to the Republic, anyway, though no doubt the holo-reporters would make a fuss about the first planet to slip into Dooku's hold during the conflicts… Sullust was a fine, if not quite isolationist part of the Republic, with nice craftsmanship and culture, but it didn't go much further than that – other than lose a fine tourist destination, Kenobi doubted that the Republic would suddenly become overwhelmed if the Separatists added this red planet to their ranks. It was not a militaristic civilization; it didn't have much in the way of artillery (at least not anything that wasn't already in a museum somewhere), so it would make no difference to either side in any skirmishes that erupted in the ensuing months whether they counted Sullust amongst their allies or not.

He heaved another deep sigh, running his finger inattentively along the metal border of one of the control panels – he was also concerned about Anakin. Though the boy may actually need some time on his own, Obi had a terrible gut feeling that Anakin was a danger to himself when alone, and that to leave him was the worse thing he could have possibly done. He prayed that his Padawan behaved himself – he'd never forgive himself otherwise.

And the final main point of concern was this 'wonderful' new situation concerning his parentage, something he would never have known about had it not been for the slip of the tongue of one of his old crèche nurses. Every time he saw his reflection now he thought of his mother, thinking about how she may have looked and, more importantly, who she may have been. There was something not right about Madam Della having known his mother, or having seemed to have known his father, too, something that bothered him immensely; what kind of profession must she have been in for Madam Della to have known her so greatly? And what line of work had his father been in (or possibly still was in, if he was still alive) too? What sort of people did the Jedi often make the acquaintances of? Besides other Jedi, he could think of few types of people, apart from politicians, with which the Jedi had the fortune to blend regularly, and then, even with the politicians, it was only really the Council members or the most trusted Jedi who got to mingle with them frequently.

He shook his head – he half wished Madam Della hadn't mentioned this, at least not right now. It was, just as she had predicted, another additional burden weighing down upon his shoulders…and he could do without complimentary liabilities when he had so much else to think about.

The blur of lightspeed continued to sprawl on ahead – he sat back and closed his eyes, waiting as patiently as he could for the bleeping of his console to tell him when he was finally at Sullust…

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**I**t had reached that time again where Anakin felt that the entire galaxy was against him. And the only man in that entire galaxy that he felt he could trust was the one who, to a certain extent, ruled all over it. That man was the Supreme Chancellor, Palpatine.

The Chancellor had managed to set aside some time at the request of the boy, of whom he was so fond, realising how distressed and upset he was, and was prepared to hear what he had to say, and to then console and advise him on where to go next. With Obi-Wan not around (as much as Anakin confided in him, anyway), he was the only person that Anakin had left to open his heart unto. And that dark, veiled shadow of a man within him knew it…

"He's just gone…" Anakin explained as he stood staring out of the window of the Chancellor's office, a place he knew almost as well as his Jedi apartment back at the Temple, "Left me to go on some 'important mission'…"

Palpatine nodded patiently, his crystal eyes focused firmly on the boy, registering his every move, seeming to pierce his very essence and mind, and read the soul within. Anakin liked how patient the Chancellor was, how he let him get all of his words out before deciding to comment, let himself get accustomed to the whole picture without jumping in. He admired those skills.

The Padawan shook his head, "I'm sure that my Master reckons I'm still not 'fit' to go on missions," he went on, briefly lifting up his metallic appendage in gesture, "Just because of this – and I'm more than used to it now, your Excellency, you can see that, can't you?"

Palpatine made his ever-calm nod of ascension, "Of course, Anakin, I can see that more than clearly. You've had enough time to recover now."

Ani nodded, "I know…so why would he leave me behind?" He turned to Palpatine, "He hasn't been helping me train or anything, though… Well, not that I've asked him to either, but you'd have thought that he'd have offered…"

"Of course."

"Thought that he'd have given me some advice, or…" He paused for a moment to collect himself and arrange his thoughts, putting everything in order that he needed to tell the Supreme Chancellor, "Well, I just don't think he trusts me. I even reckon he might be envious of how far I've come in my training, and is just holding me back again. He wants me to rest all the time, wants me to calm down and to stop thinking of rescuing Padmé –"

"Padmé?"

Anakin turned to Palpatine, a little surprised at his early intervention – he didn't usually butt in like this but, because he had, Anakin presumed that he had something important to say. He watched the Chancellor's ever-trusting facer fall slack and sombre, and the elder man shook his head; "Oh, Anakin," he sighed, "I thought we'd discussed about her…"

Anakin shook his head, his wide eyes appealing for Palpatine to see things his way, "Oh, but your Excellency, I can't just abandon her!" He rushed to the Chancellor's desk, lowering himself to his haunches by its side, gripping its edge and looking hard into Palpatine's eyes, "I keep dreaming about her, Excellency… Each time it gets worse and worse. I don't want to betray you, Excellency, I really don't – you _must_ know that! – but I love her, and I know that she's in pain, and in trouble…" He swallowed, looking down, beginning to feel his muscles all over his body tense up in rage – infact, so hard did his grip become on the Chancellor's desk, that his metallic hand dented its surface; Anakin heard the creak as it gave way, and swiftly removed his hold from it, before briefly making an embarrassed and guilty glance toward Palpatine. Palpatine's eyes betrayed no signs of anger as he saw the new depression imposed upon his bureau, however, and he merely encouraged the boy to continue with his venting. Anakin was glad of this, and rose to his feet, going on before the uncomfortable silence had a chance to become stagnant; "I have to help her…" he decreed, staring into space as his mind raced, "I must help her."

Palpatine sighed once more, "Anakin, I fear that the Padmé you rescue will not be the same one that you lost…she made a decision, she joined the Count, she –"

"The Count is a bastard!" Anakin snapped before rational had chance to tell him to hold his vulgar tongue; his foul language didn't register itself in his currently rampant mind as anything to be ashamed of, and he merely continued as if it were an affable thing to say, "He may seem to be a gentleman, but he's not – he's a twisted, sick bastard…and he needs to be punished for it."

Palpatine maintained the most ignorant expression upon his face, "Anakin, you've told me about these dreams before…and I understand your frustration, but think about it all; whether it was forced or not, Padmé is a traitor."

He shook his head, "No, she's a victim," he replied firmly, "A victim of that man's horrific powers, of that man's subterfuge. He can control her sometimes, and he abuses his powers…he must be taught a lesson."

"He's a powerful warrior, my boy," Palpatine reminded him.

"I've been training!" he returned quickly, "I downloaded all this stuff from the Archives! Stuff on every Form of 'sabre combat, stuff that I can use against him!"

"Well that's good news. At least you have been making constructive use of your time," the Chancellor admitted, giving Anakin a favourable glance, "And it is on those lines that I believe you should continue. You have no idea where Count Dooku is, and you have no idea of whether Padmé's allegiances are with the Republic or not…or, for that matter, even with you or not."

Anakin's heart dropped – this was it? The Chancellor still wasn't going to back him up on this? He needed someone just to tell him that he was right and that Padmé needed rescuing…he knew that she did!

The Chancellor gave him a fleeting look, one that he couldn't read, as though the elder Nubian were waiting for something to happen in him, or was seeing if he had pushed the right buttons. Anakin dismissed that with a furious shake of his head – Palpatine wouldn't toy with him in this state; "Your Excellency, please!" he begged, "You have to believe me! I know Padmé, I know her really well! She wouldn't betray me…perhaps the Republic, if forced, but _not_ me! And I know my dreams are showing me reality! I just pray that, when I finally find her, it's not too late…I can still save her."

"Can you?" the Chancellor rejoined.

A deep furrow cut across Skywalker's brow – what was wrong with Palpatine? Why was he being like this?

"Your Excellency…?" he murmured; he didn't know what to do – had he lost his final confidant? The only man he thought he could trust in, even when the whole, wide universe was against him…?

Palpatine's cold eyes stared into his own blue orbs – no, stared straight _through_ them. He planted his hands flat out upon the desk, and leant over it a little toward Anakin, "I can see that you love Padmé, my dear boy," he said, his tone arid and crisp, not comforting in any respects, "But love is a fickle thing. It causes many things…has launched wars, split families and incurred murders. It is but a stone's throw away from hate, and a very good friend of blindness."

Ani's eyes tightened a little on the artful politician as he strove to follow his erratic train of thought; "I don't understand," he muttered uncertainly.

A slight pitiful smile rose faintly at the corner of the Chancellor's mouth, "You fear for Padmé, but you hope – you hope that she is still waiting for you, that she is still yours and will only ever be yours. You try to block out the visions that interlace your mind and permeate your every waking thought of her perhaps _not_ being yours, of her _not_ loving you. I just want you to be prepared for life, my boy, because it gives mercy to no one. I don't want you to expect to find her and to believe that she is the same woman you left, because, let's face it, if your dreams are true, then she isn't the same person, now, is she?"

Anakin felt a lump, hard and hurtful, grow in his throat; Palpatine was right – he'd used every part of the dreams he'd been having as excuses to want to cut Dooku's throat, but the thought hadn't really forced itself through him that what he had seen in his visions had _really_ happened – though he claimed they had, internally he was still denying that everything he had seen had actually occurred; he was trying to convince himself that Padmé was still waiting to be saved, that she was still unsullied, and, only if he actually _failed_ to rescue her, would any of the atrocities he had been privy to during his slumber take place.

He swallowed the lump and it hit home as all of his denial was swept away, replaced by yet more waves of rage and ire. He tried to breathe, but found it difficult. What if Palpatine was right? How would he cope with things if it all _had_ happened…? 

'If'? Perhaps there was no 'if'… The question was how would he cope now that it _had_ happened…how would Padmé cope?

"She doesn't belong to you any more, Anakin," Palpatine continued; if Anakin hadn't trusted the man so much, he'd have said that he was taunting him; "She belongs to him."

"Where is he?" Anakin breathed, almost hissed, as his cold, grave breath finally emerged from his flaring nostrils; he didn't even bother turning to look at the Chancellor as his thoughts now wandered away into the darkness that had suddenly decided to cloak his future.

Palpatine relaxed, "I'm not sure," he replied, "I can only hope that he will be with the other Separatists, those that have converged at Sullust, and pray that we capture him before it is too late."

Anakin glanced to the Supreme Chancellor, " 'Sullust'?" he asked.

Palpatine nodded slowly, "Yes…didn't your Master tell you that was where he'd been sent?"

Ani shook his head, "No." Thoughts blazed around his mind – it couldn't be too late, could it? And even if it was, he could still save Padmé, right? There was still time! He'd make time if there wasn't; she would come back to him, no problem.

"Thank you for your time, your Excellency," he quickly nodded, beginning to head for the exit of the Chancellor's office at a brisk pace.

"You're leaving so soon?" Palpatine asked, rising from his seat, watching the boy hurry away.

"I've just remembered something I have to do," he said, picking up his pace as he went along, "See you soon, Excellency. Bye!" And, with that, he was gone, tearing past the mute, scarlet Guards that bordered the door in a mad and blind frenzy. The doors paused for a moment before closing behind him.

Palpatine sat back in his seat, and a slow smile spread across his lips – bait taken.

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**O**bi-Wan's starfighter sprung to a virtual halt as it came out of lightspeed, hovering within its hyperdrive-ring patiently as Kenobi got his bearings. He flicked about on his control panel, glancing to his right to see Windu's hyperdrive-ring and starfighter waiting patiently near by. The Jedi Master had arrived just before him.

"What took you so long?" Mace's voiced buzzed through the interface.

"Very funny, Mace," Obi replied with a grin, detaching his fighter from his hyperdrive-loop, and glancing up at the red planet ahead, "You got the coordinates?"

"Yep – we're bound for the capital city – original destination as always. And make sure you stay alert – they have to open hatches to let us land below ground. May take some skilled piloting."

"Too gaseous to land on the surface, right?"

Windu chuckled, his hearty laugh fizzing quite loudly across the communication channel between them; "Yeah, and your fighter may just melt in the process…common volcanic eruptions this time of year."

"Oh, what a joy," Kenobi muttered. 

Hovering about the rim of the planet were the motherships of the Confederacy, and a lot of them; "They do know that we're coming, don't they?" he asked.

"Soon find out."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, "You're a real comfort to have around, Mace," he sighed, flying his craft on ahead as Windu led the way, both leaving their hyperspace-loops in the orbit of Sullust.

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**P**assel Argente watched from his ship as the two, small and distant dots of the Jedi Starfighters made their way into the planet's atmosphere; "We seem to have guests," he hissed to his ally, who looked very alike him, complete with black shroud and all; he could have been his twin if you ignored the fact that his face was purple, contrasting to Argente's green complexion.

"Hill is aware of these Jedi Ambassadors…" purple replied, rubbing his hands together, hunched over as though his back couldn't take his full weight, "They should be little trouble."

"It's obvious that they're 'negotiations' will do their Republic little good. We have our orders of…'disorder'."

Purple chortled, "Yes…I like that about the Count. Plays the most simple manoeuvres against the Republic, who, in their blindness, believe that he is playing more complex ones…"

"To put what you're trying to say simply, they cannot see the woods for the trees!"

"Yes, exactly!"

They both laughed a little, that cold, callous laugh that defines a simple villain. Boba, stood silently behind them (remembering the risk upon his larynx) shook his head in a quiet disapproval – he'd seen many people like them in his time, people who had made contracts and deals his late father, people who thought that they ruled the galaxy and demanded the ultimate respect, but who were, infact, mere puppets to the galaxies' greater minds – not that they'd ever admit that, of course. Infact, they probably didn't even realise it – their mental capacities didn't work that way. It was these blind idiots that Sith Lords fed off. 

It was no wonder that the Dark side never starved…

TBC…

  


* * *

[1] Those four lines are from 'Roxanne' on the _Moulin Rouge_ (2001) OST – it just fits too well! ^_^ I had to use it!


	19. Waiting to Blow

**Author's Notes: **I am so sorry about this wait, everyone! I've been a bit blue as of late and have also recently got a p/t job, as well, so haven't written any _Star Wars_ fanfic for weeks! I'll try and get a move on, now – I just need to 'book my ideas up', or something like that. ^_^ Feel free to send me nagging emails sometimes – they do help, you know! This chapter isn't long, but it'll get the ball rolling again for a while. There's much more to come yet!

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Part 19**

**J**ocasta Nu made no comment, merely raised an eyebrow, as she again set her eyes upon Anakin, hard at work in her Archives. Things in the Galaxy were indeed turning themselves upside-down if Skywalker was beginning to take an interest in his education, she thought, before she forced herself to dismiss it as possible maturity in the Padawan. But she found it hard to even convince herself of that. Shaking her head, she swiftly trotted off to do some cataloguing – even during war, her work was never done.

Anakin's eyes wound furiously across the screen of the terminal before him: 'Sullust', it read. Fortunately, Sullust was a fairly ordinary planet, and was not, like Count Dooku, amongst the restricted sections of the Archive network. He was free to peruse all of the files on Sullust to his every whim and desire.

He scrolled down the screen, reading and mesmerising the co-ordinates of the planet and taking in all the information from the file that he could possibly saturate his mind with. No one was going to stop him this time – he was going to the Separatists and he was going to find Padmé. He didn't care about the etiquette of war (if there was such a thing), or for the incredulous amount of talking enemies seemed to do before they actually did anything constructive – it was time for someone to actually _do_ something. His training would have to wait. Padmé was more important.

He just prayed that his efforts would not be wasted…

*******************************************************************************************

**O**bi-wan carefully deactivated his craft's engines before leaping out of the cockpit, and setting his feet down onto the landing platform, below the surface of Sullust. He looked up as the hatchway in the far above cavernous ceiling closed, shutting out the volcanic and erratic atmosphere of the planet, and leaving him stood in the dim, musty darkness beneath. It was but a few moments before he heard footsteps behind him; he turned to see Mace stepping along a rocky pathway toward him, having come through a tunnel from his own landing area.

"Safe landing?" he asked, his bright smile flashing.

Kenobi nodded lackadaisically, "Yeah, no problems."

Windu caught the less than enthusiastic edge to his friend's tone; "What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" he asked, "If it's to do with your Padawan, try and put it to the back of your mind. We have work to do. I don't want to do this that much, either, but –"

"No, it's not that," Obi shook his head, before sighing and adding, "It doesn't matter. Let's get this over with."

Windu had that knowing look in his eye – when someone said something didn't matter, it usually did, but he didn't have time to argue. Besides, he wouldn't have gotten anywhere even if he tried – Kenobi was remarkably obstinate when he wanted to be.

The two turned and headed for the exit together where a couple of Sullustans waited to greet them.

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**T**he halls of the Jedi Temple rang with the silence of the eve. And of the scuttling of feet.

Anakin paused by a pillar to stare down one of the Temple's many cavernous hallways – it was empty. Some parts of the Temple never slept, but Jedi activity, unlike the more seedy parts of Coruscant, did wind down for the hours of night. He took a breath, hauling his hastily assembled pack of belongings over his shoulder, before rushing down the corridor at high speed, his eyes focused, his mind still brimming over the edge with too many a thing.

As he skidded to a tidy halt at the end of the passage, he paused, listening once more for the presence of other Jedi. He could hear nothing, but, more importantly, he could sense nothing. That was good sign. By his side, a lightsabre hung, clinking against the food capsules on his belt. He tapped it for reassurance with his left hand – he'd had no choice but to take it from its prime position, mounted on the wall, in he and Obi-Wan's Jedi chambers. He hadn't the time to hang around to make another of his own. Here was the lightsabre that had cleaved a Sith Lord in two. Here was the lightsabre of a true Jedi Master. Here was the weapon of Qui-Gon Jinn.

On Anakin went, rushing down another hallway, the synthetic light of nocturnal Coruscant shining over him as he passed frequently occurring windows. He rushed down a few flights of stairs, passed through a couple more hallways, and arrived in the docking bays, which were as dormant as the rest of the temple; all of the various space craft held there were sleeping peacefully.

He glanced over the many varied vehicles, searching for his perfect partner to accompany him on his adventure. The elephantine Republic Cruisers loomed over the smaller, lightweight craft, and it was the lightweight ships that Anakin was looking for. He paced across the giant chamber toward a row of Jedi Starfighters, small and dagger-like in appearance and coated in flaking crimson paintwork. The faded insignia of the Republic was printed on their sides.

Reaching out, he wrenched a tarpaulin off one of them and accessed the cockpit effortlessly, the inbuilt R2 unit on its hull happily complying with the young Jedi's wishes. He placed his small bag of belongings into the cockpit, before he rushed over to the hangar's control room to get a door open, and his ship out. Hijacking the Temple's systems was child's play for him…and, besides, it was the least of his worries.

*******************************************************************************************

**S**an Hill stared at the two Jedi over the small bridge of his steepled fingers; "You've come to 'negotiate'…?" he murmured.

Obi's eyes narrowed on the lean Banking Clan leader, who was the current head-honcho of the Separatists on Sullust; there was no sign of Count Dooku anywhere, which was most uncomforting; "Yes," he nodded steadily, the sneer in Hill's aura irritating him already.

San shifted back in his seat – he seemed to have set up a fair-to-decent office down on the surface of Sullust, and had every ounce of confidence that negotiations weren't going to take place.

"There's no need for any war," Windu insisted, leaning forward in his seat by Kenobi's side, "You know this – we all do."

"I fail to see anything other than necessity for this conflict," Hill retorted, examining his pallid fingernails in an arrogant gesture, "You've wasted both my time and your Republic's time by coming here."

"It has not been wasted – there is still time!" Obi-Wan uttered sternly, "There's still hope!"

San's thin lip curled up in further conceit, " 'Hope'?" he scoffed, before he deigned to lean toward the pair of Jedi and snarled, "There _is_ always 'hope', but that's all it ever is. Hope is a mere denial of reality – surely you, of all people, know this."

Kenobi felt his lip tremble – his fingers itched to reach out and clamp San's thin neck in their grasp, but he strove to keep this anger down. He could ill afford to lose his temper – he was sure it'd set a fine example to Anakin once he found out.

"I'm sure your Count Dooku once 'hoped'," San continued, "But he was one of the few of your kind who actually saw beyond hope and looked to reason and reality for answers and for, furthermore, results. He was not blinded by your Order's wishful thinking… look where it has gotten you! No where."

"And speaking of our 'old friend'," Windu interposed, "Where is he?"

Hill chuckled, "Well, the Count's obviously not _here_, now…"

"I can see that," Windu smirked coldly, "That's why I asked."

San favoured Windu with an equally cold grin, "Now that would be telling… He does have other matters to attend to, apart from chatting over idle propositions from equally idle Jedi."

Kenobi shot up from his seat, his irritation burning under his skin.

San eyed him up, "And reckless Jedi too, it would seem…" he added.

"We haven't come here to be insulted," Mace said, putting his hand to Kenobi's arm and urging him to retake his seat.

"And I'd hoped I'd not given up my time for what to me seems to be valueless prattle!" Hill rejoined.

"You've not even let us begin!"

"I'm not interested! Whatever terms you can offer us, they won't be enough! We can only achieve our aims through force, otherwise we would have accomplished them by now!"

"You're being stubborn…"

"I'm being honest, sir!"

There was a brief stalemate in which Hill and Windu remained locked in each other's fiery gazes. Obi-Wan just wanted to go home.

"What would you have us do then, Mr. Hill?" Kenobi asked quietly, rubbing his temples with his fingers, "In what way can we satisfy you and your movement?"

Windu backed off a little and San let his gaze take in Obi-Wan again. He leant toward the younger of the two Jedi, and gave him a stony glare, "I would have you leave this planet and let it freely make its choice of whether or not to join the Separatist movement, a choice which, I must add, is looking likely to be taken in our favour. Go home, _master Jedi_, back to your Republic – the time for talking is long since past. We're at war now." He returned to some paper work on his desk. "Good day to you sir."

Kenobi let his eyes make the rude remark he so wanted to utter, and kept his lips tightly sealed.

"This decision will have dire consequences for you," Mace decided to reveal, "Consequences we'd rather not happened, and which will be avoided if you cooperate."

"I will not hear blackmail from Jedi," San snapped, "The Republic is truly rotting if things have come to this."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Mace returned.

"You can say it whatever way you like, but I can't change how I hear it –get out!"

The two Jedi sighed together; Bail's plan had failed miserably. It looked like military force would be taking precedence once more as far as decision-making went.

Meanwhile, however, as the two Jedi left the Separatist base in sombre and bad moods, and were escorted to some temporary residence for the night by the accommodating Sullustans, another hyperspace ring joined theirs in orbit of Sullust. The misfortune Mace spoke of looked set to come to San Hill quite prematurely…

TBC…


	20. The Well Conceived Plans

**Author's Notes**: Oh yeah! I'm rolling quicker than I thought! **Part 20** is done and dusted! ^_^ It's getting to the more interesting bits now… I'm just trying to remember to get everything in that I need to – you'd be amazed at the number of times I forget to include really important or vital events. I hope I haven't forgot anything yet – after having such a long break between writing chapters, one can forget what they've already written and stuff… Anyway, worthless ramble. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**PadawanMage:** Wow – quick review! Thanks for your ever loyal and continuing support! I never intended to leave it as Padmé with Dooku, but it just happened for a while… And Anakin might save the day. Or he might make a mess of it all. You'll see.

**Dark Poetic:** I'm glad you're willing to wait – sometimes I just need a break, I think! ^_^ Thank you for coming back to support me again! I really appreciate it!

**Kathy:** I'm glad you're still reading my fic – thank you for your support, too!

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**"ECLIPSE"**

**Part 20**

The passageways were deserted as Anakin crept into the Separatist base on Sullust. Getting down below the planet's surface hadn't been a problem – an unwary freight cruiser had provided him both cover and passage with no trouble, and now all he had to do was find his way from the crystal mine, in which he had landed, in to the heart of the Separatist activity. And then to his Padmé.

In truth, Skywalker wasn't completely alone – he could hear the scuttle of other feet in the passage as well as his own, that of creatures he'd rather not see. He could feel them watching him with beady, curious eyes, rushing in and out of cracks and crevices in the rocky, cavernous walls. But he paid them no heed – he was on a mission, he knew exactly what to do, and nothing was going to get in his way. It'd only feel the painful consequences if it did…

In his research, he'd found that air ventilation shafts littered the tunnels of the Sullustan cities, invaluable for the well-being of the planet's populace, and they connected in some manner or another to every single chamber in the metropolis. To stop unwanted guests snooping around anywhere they pleased, large, metallic trellises covered up the entryways to every one of these portals, and were invulnerable to almost any weapon, being harboured from one of Sullust's finest and strongest metals. 

Lightsabres, however, were not just any weapon…

Metal met metal as Anakin's right limb took up Jinn's sabre in its hold. He emerged from out of the mine and into a desolate landscape, an empty byway between city and colliery, and he immediately came across one of the airshafts. With a flick of his finger, the green blade came to life for the first in a long time, and was put to treacherous use, cutting through the metal of the lattice. It was slow work, the hot blade taking its time to melt the durable matter, but he got there eventually, and the ruined grille dropped out at his feet.

He gave another quick glance to the site behind him, and, seeing no one, plunged into the duct's dark depths and let the Force guide him through the labyrinth…

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"**I** had a feeling this would happen…" Mace sighed, prodding his plate of food, unsure exactly what kind of creature the meat supplements came from.

Obi-Wan nodded in return from across the table as they ate in their apartments, a shadow hovering over his mind, "It was inevitable…it's as though they all want to orchestrate this war."

"'All'? What, the Separatists?" Mace asked, looking up to his companion. He stabbed the meat with his fork, certain it had moved.

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed slightly, "No… just _everyone_." His eyes focused on the Jedi Master, "Everyone except us."

He watched Windu slaughtering his steak for a few moments, amused a little by his antics, though he himself was unable to touch is own platter – eating was the last thing on his mind. And it looked too much like hard work, if Mace's performance was anything to go by.

Finally, Windu dropped his fork and pushed his plate away, suddenly not feeling quite so hungry; "I know what you mean," he conceded with a sigh, "There's something almost neat about how all these things are happening." He twiddled his thumbs for as moment, "What else is bothering you? I'll report all this to the Republic, you know – you don't have to worry about dealing with them…"

"No, it's not that, though you're very welcome to make the report…it's Anakin."

"Again?"

"I know I sound paranoid, but I can't help feeling that I shouldn't have left him…"

"Obi-Wan, you're too hard on yourself – he'll be fine."

"No," Kenobi stated assertively, a sharp bite in his voice, "No, you're wrong, master. I'm sorry, but you're wrong…"

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"**D**on't play with your food!"

Boba flinched as Passel Argente slapped him across the hand. He threw the magistrate a glare, "It played with me first!" he protested, his plate filled with the same platter of meat that Windu had been subjected to.

Argente growled, "Nonsense, boy – your imagination is running away with you."

Young Fett pushed the plate away, "I'm not hungry."

"Then don't eat!"

"I won't!"

San groaned, wafting a hand at them both, "Oh, be quiet, you two… And eat your meal, Boba – you never know when it could be your last."

Boba heaved a huge sigh and folded his arms across his chest, opting to do nothing but stare out his plate of repulsive food; "I'd rather die on an empty stomach than eat _that_," he eventually protested, "At least Count Dooku fed father and me properly!"

"Enough!" San yelled, slapping his long, bony hand down onto the table, "Children should be seen and not heard, young man!"

"Then you don't know much about kids, sir," Boba returned with sarcasm beyond his years.

"And I hope never to learn any more! Go to your room!"

Fett nodded grumpily, "Yes, sir." He was happy enough to just be taking his leave of the two Separatist affiliates.

Argente shook his head once the boy had gone, "I bring him on-planet to get some proper gravity under his feet, and this is how he repays me…"

"Blasted child," San added, taking a drink from his mug, "But he's of little consequence – the battle will soon be started here, and the Count can get a move on with his own plans, then take the child back. I don't want him around much longer with that kind of impertinence…"

"I hope the battles do us a favour and take him from us, then," Argente returned ruthlessly, sharing a quiet snigger with Hill before they both returned to their meals.

"Yes," San added, "Impertinence won't save him then."

*******************************************************************************************

**B**oba skulked along the rock-hewn hall of the provisional Separatist base, running his hand along the cool walls as he went. He wanted to get out of here, away from Argente and his toffee-nosed friend, Hill. He wanted to be with Count Dooku again. He didn't have any other allies, and the man at least treated him as something higher than the dirt on the soles of his feet.

In truth, he missed his father more than anything and he wanted to be with him. But he couldn't, and he never would be again. His father had always told him that he wouldn't always be there, and that he would have to carry on, head held high, when he wasn't. And Boba hoped to achieve that and do all that he could to honour his father's wishes.

There was a rattle in the passage. Boba froze, hands outstretched and ears alert.

"Who's there?" he called.

Silence. The young boy swallowed, holding his ground, thinking like a hunter. The prey was hiding.

He slowly straightened back up, "You don't have to hide from me. I'm unarmed."

The prey seemed to smile on him – to hear such from a child!

There was movement in the darkness, and an entity dropped from the ceiling, grabbing the boy, and holding him back to him, hand over his mouth…and a cold hand at that.

"Keep quiet," the entity hissed. Boba didn't struggle – never struggle in vain, his father taught him; it wasted energy and had no point. He remained still and calmly waited to see what the intruder would do.

Eventually, it seemed that the intruder felt it was safe to trust this child, and he removed his cold, metal hand from his lips, before turning the boy to face him. Their eyes met, both filled with intensity and obstinacy, and both completely fearless.

"Who are you?" Boba queried, unwavering.

Anakin smirked coldly back at him, "A Jedi," he replied.

Boba's gaze hardened, "Then you're not welcome here… And, besides, that's not who you are, that's _what_ you are…"

Anakin grinned widely at the child, "Clever boy," he murmured, "So tell me, 'clever boy', where I might find the Separatist leader?"

Young Fett blinked steadily, "Why should I tell you? A Jedi killed my father. I don't want to help one of his _friends_."

"I'm not the Jedi who killed your father, though, am I?"

"No. But you're still a Jedi."

"I'm different to the others."

Boba regarded the tall, young Knight for a moment longer, "How?"

Anakin shot his metal arm out and grasped Boba's chin, "See that? A fake limb, and I'm the only living Jedi to have one. There's one difference for you. There are many more, but I haven't come here to waste my time talking to the likes of children."

"You're not that old yourself, I'll bet," Boba rejoined, "I bet you're still a child to someone…"

Anakin stared hard into Boba's eyes – he didn't know why, but he respected this kid. He had guts, loyalty and wit, and he liked him for it. Slowly, he released him, "Tell me," he asked, "Where can I find Count Dooku?"

Boba shook his head, "I don't know… but he's definitely not here."

Anakin's face dropped – a wasted journey was the last thing he needed, "What do you mean he's not here?" he growled, hauling the boy up by his collar and glaring into his face, pushing him against the wall.

"I tell you the truth!" Boba replied, legs kicking about in the air, "He's somewhere else! I wish I were with him! I hate it here with the others…"

"Why isn't he here?"

"I don't know!"

"Is Padmé with him?"

"The woman?"

"Yes!!!" Anakin shook the boy hard against the rock face in desperation, "Tell me!"

"I think so…he seems mightily attached to her."

Anakin dropped Boba, "Bastard…" he seethed.

Young Fett rubbed his backside before getting back onto his feet, "You came for the woman only?"

"Yes," Anakin replied, looking down at his feet, "I don't care for this stupid war anymore…I just want her back. I love her and I want her to be okay…I want her to be mine again."

Boba studied him once more, beginning to understand his motives, "I want my father back, but he's dead. I can never have him back."

Anakin sighed, looking into the darkness, "My mother is also dead. I miss her too…" His lip twitched in rage before he slung a punch into the wall. Boba watched the small fragments of rock drop to the ground in response. "And it's all because of this stupid war and the stupid Jedi, and –"

As Anakin slowly trailed off into silence, Boba nodded thoughtfully, before he pointed down the hall, "You see that door, second on the right?"

Anakin looked at Boba uncertainly, then followed his finger, "I see it," he replied.

"Take that passage, then the fourth door on your left, and you'll find the chambers of San Hill. He's been put in charge by Count Dooku. He'll know where he is."

Anakin looked back at the boy, "Why are you telling me this?"

Boba shrugged, "I think I understand you."

"That's it? You aren't loyal to Dooku?"

"I am. But if your cause is worthy, then I don't see why I shouldn't be of service. My father taught me to be honourable, and I will be. I'll be of aid to whoever offers me the best in return. I'll make my father proud."

Anakin laughed gently and put a hand on Boba's shoulder, "You have made a friend in me, master…?"

"Fett. Boba Fett."

"Anakin Skywalker."

They nodded to one another, a mutual respect between them.

"Don't look to see your temporary leader again if he chooses to be less helpful than you when I reach him," Anakin added, looking up to the shaft opening from which he had dropped, "I'm in no mood for games any more."

"It'll be a blessing never to see him again, believe me…" Boba returned grimly.

"I'll wait till nightfall." He gave a final nod to the young bounty hunter, "Until next time, Boba."

"And you, sir," Fett returned. He watched the Jedi disappear up the shaft before he then continued on his way to his room, a cold smile on his youthful countenance.

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"**N**egotiations have been boycotted, sir…your move on Naboo may begin soon," Hill reported to Dooku via hologram.

Dooku smirked, hands on his hips, "Excellent news, friend. Adieu."

He watched Hill bow dutifully to him before the banker's skinny image faded, and he then turned his attention to Gunray by his side, "My, my…how fast things are now going…" he mused.

"Indeed, Count," Nute nodded, rubbing his hands together greedily, "Hill has enough artillery at hand, does he not?"

"Of course. Whenever the Republic throws their army against him, he can retaliate. The Geonosians have more than made up for the onslaught on their home world with the arsenal that they have presented us this time. Hill only has to make the signal, and our fleets will arrive to aid him. They are waiting close by."

Turning about, Dooku glanced slowly around the deck of the Federation flagship, and looked out to the planet Umgul through the viewscreen ahead. Everything was peaceful here, and he appreciated that whilst he bided his time, waiting for San to do his work. "Very soon, we can move on to our next destination," he added, voice velvety soft, "And if they refuse to join what they have technically already been made part of, we can have your blockade set up within the hour. We are but parsecs away from the planet." His gaze suddenly returned to Nute, "And if it comes to a blockade, it won't fail this time, Viceroy."

Gunray was almost jumping with excitement, "How glorious that will be! I almost hope for their refusal!"

"Don't jump the gap before you've seen how wide it is, friend. It'll do you no good," Serenn returned in a slightly more harsh tone. Gunray quickly acknowledged this, swallowing a large lump down his throat, and watched with a little relief as the Count stepped away.

"Well…I'd better report to our 'princess', haven't I?" Dooku lightly continued, putting his hands to his belt and looking to Umgul once again.

Gunray chuckled, aiming for a recovery, "Rather you than me, Count. There's no pleasing that girl."

He smirked wryly, back remaining turned to the Neimoidian, "Oh, I'm sure it's not impossible…"

Nute raised a scaly eyebrow, "If you say so, Count. If you say so."

*******************************************************************************************

**T**he line formed a smooth curve and joined another black line, and finally formed the outline of a gualara, one of Naboo's native equine beasts. It had a pair of hooked horns, a long, drawn out face, and four thin, elegant legs – it looked very similar, infact, to the horse-like creatures kept in fields all over Serenno, like the ones penned not far from Dooku's manor. The illustrated beast had a real energy and regal aura about it, one that only a person long acquainted with these animals, and also only a person with a talent for illustration, could have given it.

Padmé sighed, putting down her pen, and stared at the quadruped she'd absentmindedly drawn on a piece of paper. It was rare enough to find paper and pen off cultural worlds like Naboo, so she certainly wasn't going to waste the opportunity of having such materials at her disposal, but she couldn't focus her mind on anything in particular. The gualara – beasts she'd ridden many a time back home – just happened to be the first thing to pop into her head, and she could draw them effortlessly. She had done so since she was small.

Even though her doodle was a good one, it completely failed to cheer her spirits…

"Now that's a pretty thing."

She jumped, though her body was tired of jumping, before she gradually turned a wearisome eye onto Serenn as he glanced over her shoulder.

"Almost perfect, I would say…" he went on, "Perhaps the hocks could be better formed, but otherwise, quite flawless. You are a woman of many talents, my dear."

She stared him out as he turned his eyes from the paper onto her, "I'm sorry, you do not appreciate criticism?"

"I don't appreciate the critic."

He smirked, as he usually did, "What quick wit you have "he mused, taking a seat next to her, "But, have no fear, I won't be here to irritate you long. We are to move on very soon – San has the Republic almost exactly where he wants them, which'll keep them off our backs for the time being whilst we finalise the secession of Naboo. Would you object to departing in the next twelve hours for the planet?"

She sighed, shaking her head gently, "No," she said, rubbing her arms as though a draft was blowing through her chamber.

He sat back a little, carefully observing her, "You aren't unwell?" he asked, picking up on her every movement.

She turned on him sharply, "No. Just uncomfortable."

His brow rose a little, before he nodded and returned to his feet, "Until later, then, my lady," he said genteelly, before, with a sweep of his cloak, he had gone.

**TBC…**


	21. The Desperation of Skywalker

**Author's Notes:** OMG! *_wipes eyes_* I feel like one of those terribly faux actresses giving an Oscar speech – just thank you so much everyone who's taken the time to, not only read my work, but to put in a review at the end of it as well! The feedback after I published **Part 20** was unbelievable as far as my stuff usually goes! T'ank you so much! You guys rock! So sorry that I've again taken my time with this - you wouldn't believe all the hours I've had to do at work over Xmas and New Year! I may as well take my sleeping bag with me and stay there sometimes! Ah well - better late than never, eh? I've published chapters 21 & 22 together – I was going to get 4 or 5 chapters published at once, but some of you are getting impatient (do nag me whenever you feel like it – it encourages me! Really!) so I thought I'd get these two out and the rest will follow as soon as I can get them written. Enjoy! ^_^

**PadawanMage:** I originally wasn't going to have Boba and Anakin bump into one-another, but it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. I'm glad it worked out. Stay tuned.

**Dark Poetic: **Oh, he will… he will. ^_~

**Merrymoll: **I'm glad you felt that the ESB echo worked, too, with Ani & Boba. I enjoyed writing that lil bit, TBH. ^_^ And Padmé won't appreciate any of this Nubian irony, but she doesn't really have a choice, does she? I think Dooku just gets a kick out of causing her all this misfortune, the cruel man… _ Thanks again for your review!

**Yeth:** Is that you Seth, but with a 'Y'? o_0 And San will get his comeuppance soon, I promise you.

**Annakin:** Thank you. Have we met before? If not, welcome to my twisted world! ^_~

**Strider's Girl:** Welcome back and thank you for returning! I think the pace needs quickening now – I'll try and keep it going until the *_bleep_* hits the fan, as PadawanMage put it. ^_~ Heh.

**Infamous One:** Another welcome back! I knew you'd enjoy the Boba interaction, and I'm actually aiming (believe it or not) to get this story to finish as "Episode III" will (sorta) so that it could seamlessly flow into "Episode IV" if need be. Honest.

**BoromirDefender**: Ooh, all the LotR fans seem to be cropping up round here; we have Strider'sGirl and BoromirDefender now! ^_^ Welcome to my twisted lil fic! I'm so glad and flattered that you're enjoying it all – it's always satisfying to hear. I hope to continue to entertain you. They'll be more Padmé/Dooku soon (and it won't be very nice, either, I don't think…). And Chris Lee is a legend, as both the White Wizard and the Sith Lord.

**ms8309: **You'll just have to wait and see! And welcome to my fic! I don't think we've yet met…

**Cmdr. Gabe E:** I've done my best to update soon, though it wasn't as soon as I'd hoped… I do hope you enjoy it anyway! Much more to come! Thanks for your awesome support as of late – I really appreciate it!

**SilverWolf47:** Here you go, then! I got your Review pretty much at the same time as I was preparing these chapters, believe it or not, so you timed that well! I hope you enjoy what I've got posted and I'll have much more up very soon!

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"ECLIPSE"

**Part 21**

**A**nakin slipped noiselessly into the bedchamber of San Hill whilst the Sullustan city slumbered. He watched the chest of the Banking Clan representative steadily rise and fall whilst he resided in a deep sleep, blissfully oblivious to the dark cloud that suddenly overcast his future. The vanity of Hill was evident in the luxury of his abode, a room filled with the finest drapery and furniture, the large four-poster bed in which he slept being the very centre of this opulence.

Anakin snuffed at this, shaking his head pitifully at the inert character. As a Jedi, he'd been raised without finery or comfort. As a slave before that, he'd had even less of such things. The rich and vain almost disgusted him. 

He took a hold of his lightsabre once again and paced closer to the unsuspecting aristocrat. As he reached the bedside, he crawled onto it, until he stood pinned over San Hill on all fours. With the utmost care and precision, he angled his lightsabre down over Hill's heart, then, lowering his head by San's ear, he whispered, "Wakey, wakey."

Hill groaned, his eyes flickering open, filled with a confused daze. When his sight finally focused on Anakin and he looked into the dark, turbulent depths of the young Padawan's eyes, then saw the gaping mouth of the sabre hilt ready to unleash itself into his chest, he gave a terrified whoop and began to desperately wriggle away; Anakin, however, was faster still, and he clamped Hill down by the throat with his metallic limb, tightening his grip until no sound could escape the scrawny Separatist's maw; "Go on, " he then hissed, glaring so hard at San that the banker feared the boy's gaze may burn a hole through him, "I _dare_ you to make another noise."

Hill felt the boy prod him in the ribcage with the waiting lightsabre again, and he swallowed slowly, opting to keep quiet. Recognising this submission in Hill, Anakin slowly released his throat and watched the banker try to collect himself, completely at his mercy. Sweat gathered on his high forehead, and he trembled all over; "What do you want?" he finally managed to stutter, turning his sunken gaze onto Skywalker, "Just, please, don't kill me, Master Jedi! Please! I beg you!"

Anakin smirked proudly as he heard himself addressed as 'Master Jedi', though had to simultaneously try not to burst into a fit of laughter as San clasped his hands together and prayed to him frantically. "Are you in charge here?" he finally uttered, his tone completely at ease.

San nodded rapidly, "Yes, sir, yes!"

"So where is Count Dooku?"

"The Count…?"

"Your _true _leader? Or have you forgotten him already? It seems that you feel as though you've already replaced him, treating yourself with such revolting _luxury_ as all this…" Anakin gestured about himself, his lip upturned in true disgust.

"No, I could never replace him – would never!" Hill gibbered in terror, sweat pouring down his already pale and damp visage, "I wouldn't – this is just the hospitality of the Sullustans, I assure you!"

Ani rolled his eyes and hauled San up by the collar of his nightshirt, "Your master, where is he?" he repeated, teeth clenched, "I don't _care_ about the rest!"

"He's not here!" San replied, putting his hands infront of his eyes, as though it would somehow protect him.

"I can see that, you fool!" Anakin bellowed, tearing San's hands away from his face, "Where is he **now**?!" He shook the already shaken banker violently, reducing Hill to a wailing, quivering mess.

"Naboo! He was going to Naboo!" San cried, giving in, clutching his head in his hands.

Ani loosened his hold on San slightly, "With Padmé Amidala?" he continued.

"Yes, yes, yes!" San nodded as he sunk onto the mattress, terrified of the vicious Jedi, "Please, just don't hurt me! Please!" He broke down into a fit of tears and Anakin quickly dropped him with aversion, wanting rid of him as though he were some highly infectious creature.

"You're not worth my time," he seethed, "You're not worth anyone's time."

Hill raised his eyes a little as Anakin began to sidle away, feeling an ounce of relief begin to trickle within him. Suddenly, however, Anakin halted, looking into space, "But, _perhaps_ I should take mercy on other people," he murmured.

San frowned, confused.

Anakin turned back to him, "Perhaps I should make sure that you don't waste anyone else's time."

Hill didn't even have time to squeal before Anakin's green blade tore through his abdomen, and he lay still forever, killed in the centre of his own extravagance.

"Naboo," Anakin murmured to himself as he crawled back along the shaft that had brought him into the banker's chamber, "I have you now, 'my friend'."

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**O**bi-Wan's eyes tore open and he shot up in bed, "Anakin!!" he cried. 

He ran his hand over his face – it was covered in sweat, and he could feel his heart racing and pounding in his chest. He swallowed, his senses heightened, his mind alert. Something was wrong.

He looked around his chamber, a faint draft blowing over him from the huge ventilation shaft in the ceiling; he couldn't wait to leave this planet. He felt rather claustrophobic, stuck under the surface. He wanted to feel proper, fresh air on his face again – and even Coruscant would do for that. As long as he could see a sky.

He swung his legs over the bedside and shook his hair out, moving it away from his eyes; he felt uneasy, he felt anxious, he felt…

"Anakin…"

***********************************************************************************************

**I**t all felt so wrong, so warped, as though reality was having a laugh. Padmé watched the glorious green and blue orb of home fill the viewscreen of the shuttle, looming ahead in all its grace and glory. But she came here, not as a friend or national, but as something of an enemy, as a coercer, as one trying to get it to join the rebel side of the war before the Republican tug-of-war team woke up and came back into the fray.

She sighed, rubbing her temples – she wasn't appreciating this irony: the planet she had once defended as a steadfast Republican she now came back to as one of the very secessionists she once refused to ever join, having handed it over to the Separatists without their knowledge or permission.

"Are you certain that you're not unwell?"

She tried not to roll her eyes as she turned to Dooku, "Will you back off?" she snapped.

"Certainly, madam," he returned, himself trying not to grin, "I apologise for being too forward."

She turned away from him again and he returned his gaze to Naboo as he piloted the craft.

"You are an aloof young lady, aren't you?" he said.

"No one can help how they were moulded."

"It'd do you no harm to –"

" _'Open up' _– yes, I've been told a million times! Back off!!"

"I say, we are in foul humour…"

"Are you thick-skinned or just thick?" she rejoined, spinning an angry glare onto him, "I mean, wouldn't you be in a 'foul humour' if you'd betrayed your home planet, especially when they'd trusted you so much?"

"I know it hurts," he said quietly, calmly turning away from her, "But we all have to make decisions during our lives that hurt, we all have to suffer hardships, and we all have to then get over it. Just let the fact that you know you've made the right decision reassure you."

She shook her head, "But what I'm doing isn't right. And you know it."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

He shrugged lightly, "If you say so, madam."

Padmé and Serenn were alone on this venture, but Gunray was but a few parsecs away, his Federation fleet hovering near the planet Umgul. He would be at Dooku's heel the moment he was called. Naboo was in a lose-lose situation, and there was nothing they could do about it; they would join the Separatists or suffer.

***********************************************************************************************

"Murder!! MURDER!!"

Kenobi rose his head, mouth gaping, and rushed across his chamber, hammering the button by the door, desperately bidding it to open. Surely enough, it did, and he leapt out into the hallway, just in time to see the back of a short Sullustan rushing frenziedly down the corridor; "Murder! Murder!" it continued to cry, arms flailing, "The Jedi have murdered!"

Obi swallowed his heart, "No, Anakin," he involuntarily found himself muttering, "No… no…"

**TBC…**


	22. The Storms Collide

**Author's Notes:** More to come soon… bear with me! ^______^

*******************************************************************************************

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 22**

"Murderers!"

In mere minutes, Obi-Wan and Mace were torn from their apartments, arms shackled behind their backs, and paraded mercilessly down the wide, metallic tunnels of the underground city. Sullustans, aroused by the pandemonium, word spreading quickly, gathered down the streets, and pointed and jeered. Yet, in all this chaos, the two Jedi had no idea what was going on…

"Would someone please explain everything to us?" Mace protested, fuelled by the injustice of it all more than anything, "Someone, please!" 

Yet still the crowds only cried, "Murderers!", "Devils!", and "Hypocrites!"

Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel this a repetition of what had gone before, on Geonosis - he had then, at least, been conscious of why he'd been taken prisoner; this time, he simply had no idea, only an unnerving feeling that his Padawan had been near by… a feeling that grew into a nauseating worry and, eventually, an undoubted truth...

"No, Anakin," was all the dispirited Jedi could mumble, "Please, no…"

*******************************************************************************************

Serenn inhaled sharply, and Padmé, curious, quickly turned to look at him. The old Separatist had a distant look in his eyes, one of slight shock and uncertainty… Slowly, and gradually, he came back to himself, and his chest fell once more, his respiration retaking pace. He looked to Padmé, only too aware that she was staring at him...

"What?" she asked, almost certain that he'd sensed something.

He smiled at her, "Nothing…" he said.

She narrowed her gaze, "I'm sure," she mockingly replied.

Dooku threw her a brief glare - she'd seemed to echo Sidious all too closely then, and the more he was reminded of the Sith Master and his wealth of power, the more uneasy he felt himself become.

The two were, by now, on planet, and awaiting an escort from the landing plaza, beyond the palace grounds, where they'd effortlessly docked their ship. The sun was at its peak and many different kinds of ships - freighters, passenger cruisers, star fighters - came to-and-fro from the various surrounding landing platforms of the square. Many people went about their day-to-day business, completely oblivious to the fact that two of the war's greatest figureheads were now standing idly in their capital city. It had been a brash, risky and quite arrogant move, on Dooku's part, but he knew that a low profile visit was often the more effective than a fully publicised and broadcast visit, with a full entourage in tow. 

Besides, he thrived on surprising people.

Padmé bowed her head in shame, a feeling of nausea in her gut - she didn't know what she was going to say, what she was going to do, how she should conduct herself or, worst of all, what her people would say, but she was definitely both scared and mortified.

The two raised their heads promptly as they heard footfalls coming down the metal walkway - a Nubian soldier was approaching, clad in his burgundy and terracotta uniform, with his helmet shining in the sunlight. He stopped before them, a slightly shaken look on his face as though he had drawn the short straw for the task. Padmé felt so guilty at this, knowing that she was the cause for part of this loyal soldier's discomfort, a soldier who may have been but a boy when the Battle of Naboo took place, and who would remember well whose side she had originally been on…

"Senator Amidala," he bowed, then, turning to the tall Separatist, he nodded, "Count Dooku."

Serenn nodded steadily back, his relaxed smile ever present on his face and his hands clasped behind his back.

"Would you please follow me," the soldier continued, turning about and marching away down the landing platform. Amidala exchanged glances with Dooku, before they both broke into a swift walk and followed the young man.

*******************************************************************************************

Passel Argente's lips were tightly pursed, his hands tensing - this had not been foreseen at all. Steely eyes glaring, he watched the mayor of the Sullustan capital approach him, clad in ceremonial robes, and walking briskly down the centre of the cavernous town hall.

Argente tapped his foot hard, displeasure emanating from his form like a thick fog. Hiding in the shadows behind him were his mauve-skinned aide and the young Fett, whose boyish features were soiled by an iniquitous little grin.

"What is the meaning of this, your lordship?" Passel hissed before the mayor had even quite reached him, "Is this the homage with which you repay your guests? Is this how those who seek to give you a better future are treated?"

"Be not hasty, magistrate," the mayor rejoined, "This is not our doing!"

"It may as well have been," Argente went on, folding his arms and standing up to his full height, "You were foolish enough to allow those Jedi access to this planet… now look where it has gotten you!"

"The Jedi assured us of peaceful negotiations… this is not the nature of the Jedi."

"No - but my friend and colleague was killed by a lightsabre… I know no others who wield blades of laser except the Jedi…"

"And the Sith," the mayor whispered.

Argente scoffed, "Ah, yes, the Sith! A myth created by the Jedi to excuse those of their kin who have committed wrong. A myth used to scare the Republic into a belief that they still need a Jedi corps… A myth, nothing more…"

The lord mayor looked dubious, but turned his black eyes onto the doors at the far end of the hall where he heard a commotion breaking loose. The two mighty doors swung open and a crowd bustled in, shouting and jeering; at the head of this mob were the two Jedi ambassadors, marched forward like common criminals with their hands held behind their backs.

Argente's gaze only hardened the more, "So they dare to show their faces, do they? These 'Keepers of the Peace'!"

A chorus of support rang from the crowd in response to the magistrate's sneering words, and the two Jedi were planted before the mayor and him on their knees, their heads pulled back to look up at the two. Windu gritted his teeth in distaste whilst Obi-Wan remained forlorn and still, knowing that a struggle never seemed to get him anywhere.

"Have you come to explain yourselves, Jedi?" Argente continued, the small, Sullustan mayor quite put in the background by the towering, overpowering Separatist.

"We have nothing to explain! We've committed no crime!" Mace returned vociferously.

The crowds shouted against Windu in response, certain of he and Kenobi's guilt.

"A Jedi killed San Hill," Passel stated, "And there are but two Jedi on this entire planet, with two lightsabres between them - which one of you committed the deed? And how could you sink so low? Is this the desperation of the Republic now? Is the secessionist cause so great a threat now that you have to stoop to _murder_?"

"Murderers! Killers!" the crowds shouted and cried about them.

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed and he shook his head inconspicuously. Windu continued with his protestations of innocence, "We've done no wrong! Nothing! If this Separatist is dead, then look to other causes, look to other possibilities! We were in our chambers all night!"

His words fell on deaf ears, as Obi-Wan knew they would.

"There was another Jedi here."

All attention turned suddenly on the small boy, who spoke up from behind the lord mayor and Argente. He looked smug, calm and relaxed, his arms folded as he leant into the wall. Kenobi's gaze hardened on the child, a dark air about him.

"What?" Argente hissed, himself mistrustful of the cloned-child.

Boba stepped forward a little, hard eyes set onto the two Jedi, before they looked up to Passel and the mayor, "There was another Jedi here. I came across him last night. He threatened me, and wanted to know where to find Count Dooku. I told him he wasn't here, so he said that he'd settle for seeing San Hill instead. I had no choice but to tell him where he'd be."

"And you didn't speak up until now?" Argente growled.

"I was scared!" Boba protested in feigned innocence, his eyes emitting everything you would expect from a fearful child, his heart, however, just full of vengeful malice, and loving every minute of it; besides, his father's killer was one of those who stood accused before him.

"Give the boy a chance," the mayor added, rallying behind the child, and placing a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"He had a metal arm," Boba went on, "And he said his name was…" He paused in thought, the crowd about him silent, hanging on his every revealing word.

"Yes…?" Passel pushed on.

"Skywalker," Fett finally recalled

The crowd murmured to one-another; 

"The Chosen one?"

"No, it can't be…"

"That wondrous boy who saved the Naboo…? The same one?"

"What's going on here?"

"Are there any other Skywalkers in the Jedi Order? It could be a mistake"

"How many Skywalkers do you hear of with metal arms…?"

"Silence," the mayor commanded the throng before turning back onto Boba, "You are certain?"

"Yes," he nodded, "He came through the ventilation shafts - that's how he got about."

There was more talking.

The mayor nodded and looked to Passel Argente, "We will investigate this claim - keep the Jedi hostage for the meantime. We will soon talk to their Republic about this most atrocious act."

Kenobi was shaking his head, mouth gaping, whilst Windu was haunted constantly by Obi-Wan's qualms of leaving his protégé alone, and how he'd dismissed them. Fett gave the two a quick, satisfied glance - the score was now even.

*******************************************************************************************

Padmé's heart was again in her throat, and she felt so alone, naked in the void… As she and the Count - who seemed wholly impervious to everything - walked across the plaza from the landing platforms to the palace, led by the youthful soldier, people stared; Gungans and Nubians alike recognised her - and many recognised the tall Count, too - though most without belief, as they passed through the beautifully crafted square. Conversations silenced, glares intensified… Padmé had never felt so isolated and unwanted in all of her life. She'd never wanted this to happen, for her to come back to her home world and be treated like this… It was all so wrong.

"Friendly lot, aren't they?" Serenn quipped as they entered the corridor which led to the main palace building. 

"How can you be so insensitive?" she hissed back, uncaring whether or not the soldier in front heard.

He just smirked, as normal, and she wanted to smack him, just to hit him as hard as she could so that it drew blood and bruised flesh! She'd like that… it'd make her feel so much better, it would-

"Senator Amidala?"

She jumped, the nasty daydream shattering, and halted, Dooku stopping by her side, as the guard presented them into the main hall; "The queen awaits your audience," he said, bowing low. The large doors to the throne room opened, and, after but a brief pause, the Senator and the Separatist walked in in-sync.

At the head of the table, central to the room, Queen Jamilla sat, surrounded both sides by her body of advisors. On the two stepped, though Padmé felt her feet grow heavy with every step, as though they were made of metal, and her pace seemed to slow. It was by a force unknown that she managed to keep going, a force that seemed to inaugurate itself with a fleet glance from Serenn's eyes.

They stopped before the Queen, and the Count bowed whilst Padmé - trying not to fall weak on her knees - managed a small curtsy.

_/Stay strong, for crying out loud…/_

Her eyes widened, and she shot Dooku a rapid glance, though his eyes did not look back.

"Count Dooku, Senator Amidala, we are pleased to finally have you here to speak with face-to-face concerning these most confusing political situations of late," the Queen began, her bearing everything as noble and wondrous as Padmé's once had been.

_/Stop shaking/_

"We would like to remind you that you are on Republican territory, however, and that we are, as of yet, unaware as to any alterations to our stance."

"Forgive me for correcting you, madam, but we areinfact on _Separatist_ territory."

Padmé wanted to sink down into her shoes and disappear - the insolence of the man!

The Queen gave him a subtle glance of _'Really? Are you quite sure?'_, and all of her surrounding aides seemed to share her disposition.

Dooku's hidden grimace was there once again, hiding beneath his lips; he placed a hand on his hip, and pulled from the folds of his cloak with the other a piece of parchment, one that made Padmé's heart fall from her throat and plonk down into her stomach. Walking forward, all eyes on him, he placed the paper flat out on the Queen's desk; "Here is your proof," he added.

The Queen seemed to glance to her aides quickly before she looked down at the parchment, read it through, and saw the signatures across the bottom, signatures assigning the party or following of the signatory to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Padmé's was the first on there. The Queen looked to Senator Amidala uncertainly, gazing at her for a long while before she threw a glance back to the Count, "You regard Naboo as one of your 'conquests' on the mere word of a senator, be that word without council from both her planet and her people?"

Padmé cringed, the bitter words stinging her within.

"I will, " Serenn replied unwaveringly, "A senator does, after all, have higher authority in the Republic, and a firmer familiarity of its workings, than a domicile queen…"

The council murmured and the queen eyed Dooku carefully, more than aware of his ability to play with words; "Then let us hear from the senator," she asked cautiously, looking again to Padmé.

Padmé felt every gaze in the chamber shift onto her, gazes she had once felt so comfortable with, but gazes which were now cold and tentative, even disappointed…

"Senator Amidala, what gave you such conviction as to believe we'd want to make this move?" the Queen questioned, voice steady yet intimidating, "Why have you, without correspondence or council, assigned Naboo to the cause of the secession?"

Padmé hesitated, exchanging a brief glance with Dooku, before she answered shakily, "The Republic is broken within… it cannot be fixed, and… well, we have to look to drive out this vice and start over."

The Nubians all looked completely confused; this wasn't the senator they remembered, nor had this ever been her outlook. Dooku seemed reasonably impressed by her statement however, giving her a nod of approval.

"What corruption do you speak of?" Jamilla continued.

Padmé shifted uneasily, "A hidden corruption… the Sith."

"It's just all rumour!" Sio Bibble burst out in disbelief, "We all know that. And the Jedi would know within a heartbeat if one of those creatures were in the Republic! How can you believe such folly, senator?"

"Because it's true," Dooku rejoined, giving the elder Nubian councillor a glare, "I assure you, it is true. And I ask that you escape this evil before it is too late - agree to Padmé's actions, say yes to a place in the Confederacy. Believe me, it'll make your lives a lot easier…"

"Are you threatening us, Count Dooku?" the Queen posed.

"I would do no such thing…"

"I was going to say that I didn't think you were that daft - we can have a message sent to the Republic fleets within minutes, and they would be here promptly to assist us against you. You've taken a great risk coming here, both alone and unaided."

"I must ask you to swallow your words, madam," Serenn countered confidently, "For part of my own fleet rests in the orbit of Umgul and could be here much swifter than your Republic allies, who seem to be ever the more occupied elsewhere… I have a contract here legally binding you to my movement" - he snapped up the parchment and pointed it blatantly out to her - "And if you decide to refuse me what is already mine, I will take it by force."

The queen's gaze hardened on him as she strove to keep herself composed.

"I hate to be unoriginal, your majesty, but I can have this planet blockaded within the hour, your people held at my ransom, your planet all but mine. And I'm sure your citizens would find all that most wearisome… blockades always are second time round."

"You can't do that."

"I can, and I will if I must…"

"All for our little planet?"

"Your 'little planet' has become rather influential this past decade, an influence I could use. The Republic would go reeling without you counted amongst their allies."

"We support the Republic."

"I implore you not to… it'll bring you no good."

"You have no proof of this Sith influence in the senate, and neither has Senator Amidala… and if you've coerced her into belief of it, then you must truly have cast some spell of words onto her."

Padmé desperately wanted to disappear now…

Dooku continued with the rally; "I only tell you the truth and I offer you salvation."

"And our refusal and further martyrdom would only bring you more trouble," Jamilla reminded him.

"I beg to differ."

The two stared at one another once more and the council hung onto this silence with baited breath.

"Do you have anything furthermore to add, Count?" the Queen finally queried.

"No, my dear."

"Do not patronise me," she snapped, before turning to Padmé, still cynical about her changed stance, "And you, senator?"

Padmé dithered again, shaking her head, "I'm sorry," was all she murmured.

*******************************************************************************************

"You could have given them more than twenty-four hours to think about it…" Padmé griped as they marched away from the palace throne room.

"Yes, because I do have _all _the time in the universe!" Serenn rejoined.

Padmé threw the sarcastic separatist a dark glare.

"And you, madam, could have been more convincing…" he reproved her in return, "You certainly weren't helping me at all."

"You didn't have to bring me with you…"

"And you would have but claimed injustice on your part if I hadn't…"

"You therefore put me between a rock and a hard place."

"I know."

"Neither option was good for me."

"In your opinion…"

"I've never felt so low, so dishonourable in all my life! And you…" Padmé stopped in her tracks and stared at him, "You were so damn rude!"

He smirked, "The aristocracy thrive on rudeness."

"You may have been born an aristocrat but you were raised a Jedi - you shouldn't be that way."

"Life shapes one - don't blame me."

"I'll blame you as I see fit."

"Enough."

Padmé glared at him, "You can't tell me to shut up."

He glared back provocatively, "I'm under the impression I just did."

Again, Padmé scowled, but she left it at that.

Serenn stepped on ahead, "I must admit, your Queen is most courteous letting us stay here at the palace…"

" _'As long as we keep a low profile'_, she said," Padmé reminded him.

Dooku wafted away her concern, "Of course… so, while we now have a little free time on our hands, what would you like to do?"

She looked at him for a moment, before she folded her arms and paced to a window on the far side of the corridor, one which overlooked the gorgeous waterfalls and green hills of the Theed outskirts; "I'd like to see my family, and get some of my things together…"

"A wise decision," Serenn concurred, though Padmé dare not ask him why; "They live in Theed?" he went on.

"Yes," Padmé nodded, "But in the quieter suburbs."

" _'Quieter'_?" Dooku scoffed, "It's quiet _here _compared to the bustle of most core worlds, and this is the planet's capital…can it get much quieter?"

She sighed, only half listening; Naboo was so soothing to her - she only wished she were here under less rigorous circumstances.

"How will you reach your family?" Serenn continued to question.

She closed her eyes and tightened her folded arms, "I don't know… speeders go about that way often, but -" She hesitated, thinking things over.

"But?" the Count pushed, stepping by her side.

The line drawing of earlier came back to Padmé; "I used to like to ride there," she disclosed, "Round the outskirts, on gualara-back. It takes longer, but I love it."

He smiled, "Oh, those equine-like things, like what you were drawing as of late?" He looked out across the scenery, "Capital… I would like to ride with you."

" _'Ride'_?"

"You want to ride…?"

"Well, yes…"

"You just didn't expect me to?"

"Well, no.. and to my paren- ?"

"I've no intention of travelling all the way with you," he interrupted, "I just need some time to myself, and I must admit, it has been some time since I last rode…"

She rose a wary eyebrow this time, but shrugged, drained by all the time and energy that she had so-far wasted fighting with him, "Fine, do as you please…"

"I will, believe me," he added, giving her a bright yet fearsome glance, "I will."

**TBC…**


	23. The Consequences

**Author's Notes:** This is one of those linking chapters, so don't expect too much from it… I've just got to get the Part 24 sorted, then, after that, I'll have a good three chapters to post at once. ^_^ They're all fairly chaotic, but I think you guys'll like them – I mean, if you're still here as it is, then nothing should stop you now! 

Thanks for your ever-continuing support - you guys rock!

**Strider's Girl:** _*bows*_ I am most honoured. u_u My thanks.

**SilverWolf47:** _Be_ greedy - I need more people to tug on my sleeves and whine at me for constant updates - it helps to get me going! I do hope you enjoy the following instalments, and do keep nagging. I'll get there in the end!

**Dark Poetic:** You're one of my longest-standing readers, methinks! Thank you for continuing to read me twisted fic!

**Ms8309:** ó_0 ?

**Kathy:** The pleasure's all mine – just thank you for reading-&-reviewing!

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"ECLIPSE"

**Part 23**

"The kid was right - ventilation shafts have been sabotaged in all the expected places across the city. It would seem that this renegade Jedi got in through the mines, and then accessed the shafts around there with aid of a lightsabre."

The mayor of the Sullustan capital nodded slowly, rubbing his head in thought whilst the security guard reported to him; "Yes… but how did he get into the _mines _in the first place?" he queried, "We know that the two craft the Jedi ambassadors arrived in can definitely only carry one person each…"

"Certainly, sir," the guard agreed, "But we can't ignore the fact that there have been disputes as of late regarding the ease with which pirates seem to be able to sneak into our mines - they manage to skilfully hide their ships beneath our freighters whilst they enter the planet. This Jedi 'Skywalker' is an expert pilot - it would be easy for him to steal in unnoticed in a similar manner… And with their having been reports of a stray _third _Jedi craft in our orbit at the ideal time, as it is, I think we can safely put two-and-two together."

Again, the mayor nodded; "We will contact the Republic."

*******************************************************************************************

Palpatine put a hand to his mouth as he heard the news, "Murdered? How? By whom?"

Kit Fisto, charged with making the report to the Chancellor, shook his head slowly, "They say by one of our own, by a Jedi Knight."

The Chancellor made a nervous laugh, finding it all very incredulous, "A Jedi? But that's impossible. Only Master Kenobi and Master Windu are present on that planet, and they certainly wouldn't kill in cold blood." He paced across his office, hand over his mouth; "In fact, I doubt they'd kill at all," he added as his hands shifted to his hips.

"But San Hill is dead, no doubt, and killed by a lightsabre" Fisto reminded the Chancellor, "It puts all of my kin in a bad light… we must find the culprit and get this case closed. Rumours are circulating already of the finalising of several more planet's decisions to defect to the secessionist movement, this crime acting as nothing but the catalyst."

If he didn't respect his position so much, the Chancellor would have sworn; "So who has done it?" he demanded to know, "Who is responsible for this?"

"They claim there to have been one witness, a young boy in the Separatist camp present there," Kit replied, "He saw the Jedi they believe committed the deed."

"And…?"

"They say it was Anakin Skywalker."

Palpatine's gaze faded slowly in horror, "Anakin? Young Anakin? But that's surely not possible…"

"We cannot find him here on Coruscant," Fisto continued regretfully, "And we are missing a starfighter. This boy-witness has also apparently said that the Jedi he saw sported a metal limb. It all falls into place too easily."

"No…" Palpatine sighed, dropping into his chair and staring out to the traffic crawling across the horizon beyond.

"We must get this issue sorted and get it sorted cleanly," Fisto heartily recommended, "Our Order and the Republic that we serve cannot afford this kind of degradation. People are losing faith ever the more quickly…"

"Kenobi and Windu," the Chancellor abruptly queried, seeming to suddenly recall their position in this affair, "Are they safe?"

"They'll be fine providing justice is done," Kit said, "If we don't bring Anakin to justice - and that is assuming that this is his crime - then people will be able to use this incident to clarify all the rumours of corruption in the Republic. We will lose the moral war, and then the military one will swiftly follow…"

"I know…" Palpatine growled bitterly, "I know… But don't you see how all this just gives a fine reason for another unwelcome Separatist campaign?"

There was a brief pause whilst the two thought.

"What shall we do, your Excellency?" Fisto eventually asked, "We need to get Obi-Wan and Mace out of there before we can get everything else sorted. Or so I would advise."

"I agree with you," the Chancellor concurred, "They deserve not to be in the middle of this… They wouldn't have been there at all if Antilles hadn't attempted to get some vain final 'negotiations' on the cards…"

Kit made no comment, deciding not to get himself involved with Palpatine's personal matters or squabbles.

"I will make contact with the Sullustans and we will hopefully get those two Jedi out of there, as soon as possible," the Chancellor affirmed, "Then we must find Anakin and settle this terrible matter…" He paused, sighing; "This has all come at such a bad time.."

Fisto again remained quiet, just nodding his assent.

Suddenly, Palpatine's brow furrowed, "But why would Anakin want to be on Sullust in the first place?"

Kit vacillated, "There is rumour, your excellency…"

The Chancellor's eyebrows rose, "Of what?"

Fisto swallowed slowly, "Of the Padawan being infatuated, hell-bent on finding Senator Padmé Amidala, who, we all know, has turned to the Separatist cause…"

Palpatine gaped slightly, "Infatuated enough to _kill_ in order to find her?"

Fisto nodded, "Yes, your excellency… the boy has quite a temper."

The Chancellor shook his head, "My word…" he sighed, "I wager that he would realise that his master, Obi-Wan, had business on Sullust with the Confederacy and would want to follow… He would probably believe that, if his master was to see the Separatists, then Senator Amidala would be there, too, and that would be his chance to 'rescue' her."

"Exactly, your excellency," Fisto quietly agreed.

The Chancellor sighed again, "Find him. I will do my best to deal with everything else…"

*******************************************************************************************

Dirt flew up from beneath the gualaras' hooves as they sped across the green hillocks of the Nubian landscape. Padmé rode ahead of Dooku, half-suspecting that he'd come with her to just keep an eye on her more than anything...

Padmé couldn't wait to reach her family and just be out of Dooku's sight for a while - he was a major irritant, and she simply couldn't shake the terrible gut-feeling that she constantly had around him, a sure inkling that he was more than what he often seemed… And that 'more' was a dark one.

A herd of shaaks cleared out of their way as they traversed a small stream, and then the rooftops of the far Theed suburbs began to rise up in the distance. 

Padmé slowed her gualara, pulling back on its reigns; the best snorted, though obeyed her command, and reduced its pace. Serenn followed suit, slowing his charger and keeping pace with Padmé.

"This is it," she said, nodding ahead to an estate of quaint little houses, with cobbled streets and ornamental archways running between them.

Serenn got the hint; "Fine. Off you go. I will see you later."

She watched him for a second, "Do I have to be 'home before dark'?" she jested sourly.

He harshly laughed, "Of course," he said as his gualara fidgeted restlessly beneath him, whilst Padmé's, in contrast, behaved much more civilly.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

His mount brayed, tossing its head; "Where I'm bade," he replied.

She frowned, "What does that mean?"

"Enough to me - it doesn't have to mean anything to you."

She turned her beast in the right direction, "Until later, then…" she said, taking her leave across the fields and back into the city.

Serenn sat back on his equine and watched her disappear. He then wrenched the reigns of his mount about, dug his heels into its pelt, and sped off back the way he had come.

"So she is finally out of the way?" the hologram of the Sith Master asked, whilst Dooku paced about it, back in his provisional lodgings in the Palace.

"Yes… I ensured that she was far from me," Tyranus replied, eyes fixed on the shimmering image of Darth Sidious, "She's with her family, so she won't be back for some time, whilst I, Count Dooku, am 'having some time to myself'."

"Or so she thinks…" Sidious chuckled, before his demeanour changed and he enquired, "You _are_ completely alone?"

"Yes," Dooku nodded, "I've searched this chamber from top to bottom, and have found no 'bugs' or small devices… as if the Naboo would have the guts to employ such espionage, anyway..."

Sidious laughed again, "No.. they are a conscience-ruled people."

Tyranus' hands hung from his belt as he nodded his acquiescence, his face an epitome of self-assurance. 

"Well, friend," Sidious pushed on with matters, "Have you heard the news?"

Dooku blinked, "News…?"

"I guess not," the Sith Master mused.

"Well, I'm hardly likely to hear anything after leaving the Queen and her advisors in such an awkward position - I doubt listening to intergalactic news will much be on their minds, nor do I have the time to allow it to be on mine…"

"Well you certainly should consider keeping up with affairs…"

Serenn rose his eyebrows, but Sidious did not continue; "And why is that?" Dooku finally asked.

Sidious' robes shifted as he folded his arms beneath their folds, "San Hill," he stated.

The Count sighed, "What's he done now?"

"Very little," Darth rejoined, "He's dead."

Serenn's eyes faded in complete shock, " _'Dead?'_ " he laughed in a gesture of utter disbelief.

"It would seem," Sidious cogitated, "That Anakin has gone completely off track."

Dooku nodded dourly, pacing across the room, one hand to his chin, the other behind his back; "I would have guessed that he was involved somewhere along the line…"

"This is just as we planned, my apprentice."

"Planned?" Dooku scoffed, eyes darting in the direction of Sidious' hologram, "We didn't 'plan' the death - no, the_ murder_ - of San Hill!"

"No, but it could work to our advantage."

Serenn mulled it all over in his mind, staring; "Go on…" he insisted.

"The Jedi are weakened by this - a crime by one in their own ranks is the last thing they needed…"

"Indeed," Dooku concurred.

"And Anakin is only further removing himself from the Order by such behaviour…"

The Count nodded once more.

"And now," Sidious went on, "He will be coming for _you_."

"He knows I'm here?"

"I should think so… San Hill would have no doubt blathered about all he possibly could at the end."

"It would only be natural of such a spineless creature," Dooku agreed, sitting down on the edge of his bed, the cogs and gears of his mind trying to think how best to manipulate and work through this matter.

"Even so," Sidious muttered darkly, "Though Anakin has now gone off track, I must remind you _not_ to…"

Dooku locked gazes with his master, and the robed figure just nodded once more, "Remember your place, my friend, and remember our aims."

"I'll remember, master," he murmured.

"Prepare yourself for the boy's arrival - keep him at bay, but use all the weapons you have in your 'arsenal' against him…"

"You mean for me still to taunt him?"

"If you feel it necessary."

"Just not to harm him?"

"No… do not injure him, or at least not badly."

"As you wish, my master."

"Good man," the Sith Master affirmed, before his image then fizzled and faded away.

Dooku paced over to the small holo-proj ' device that he'd placed in the room centre, before he picked it up and folded it away, storing it within his robes; "As you wish…" he repeated involuntarily.

*******************************************************************************************

Darth Sidious sat back in silence; considering that there hadn't been a plan to frame the Jedi at all, and that the death of San Hill had occurred of its own accord, things were going even better than he had hoped. In fact, the Separatists were now guaranteed to get many more sympathy votes, and more planets would turn over to them, making the Republic's stability only the more fragile. It seemed that the Jedi were digging a fine hole for themselves - courtesy of Skywalker - before he and his apprentice, Tyranus, had even reached for a shovel! And, if Anakin did what the Sith Master expected, and went on to challenge Dooku once more himself, the Jedi would have a mighty fight on their hands, and this one would be for their survival, for the Keepers of the Peace were becoming the very cause of its destruction…

There was but one more piece of the plan that had to click into place before all would run smoothly, and that rested on the shoulders of both the Senator and the Separatist…

Sidious smiled to himself, fingers steepled, each pair tapping together in tandem; he would see to it that everything happened according to his design.

*******************************************************************************************

Padmé tied her gualara up outside the front door to her parent's home, giving its flank a pat, before she ascended the stone steps to the door and knocked. She then took a firm grip on the handle, and walked in…

The hallway was quiet, but she could hear the cries of children playing from the garden, through the back of the abode. She stepped on through the house, looking from room-to-room as she went, in case she saw anyone still within. She then reached the kitchen and saw, out the window, her entire family - mother, father, sister and two nieces - sat out in the sunlight in the garden. Ryoo and Pooja were rushing about, playing tag with one-another, whilst the three adults smiled at their carefree play cheerfully.

Padmé too smiled - how she'd missed them all.

Plucking up the courage, she walked straight through the kitchen and out into the garden, where she halted on the patio. 

It was the attentive Pooja who spotted her first; "Aunty Padmé!" she suddenly shrilled, rushing across the lawn as fast as her little legs would carry her.

The attention of the entire family was then diverted onto her, and, as one, they rose to their feet and rushed over to see her.

**TBC…**


	24. Nothing Happens by Accident

**Author's Notes:** Ohhhhh, I lied… there's _one more_ chapter I need to construct before my unheard-of 'three-chapters-at-once' can be published. Sorry - I just completely overlooked a certain event, and need to get it written before I can go any further. I've still got you another two instalments published ATM anyway, so that should keep you happy for a while longer. Things are getting very dark and are starting to 'change' now, though… don't know whether you've noticed. 

I think I've actually reached the story's mid-point! -YAY! I've only been writing this for over a _year _now… _*she says sarcastically*_ ^_~ Enjoy!

**SilverWolf47:** LOL - that was a fine show of complete and utter bellyaching! I'm impressed. ^_^ Take these chapters as your well-earned reward. And even _I_ don't know where this story's going sometimes… though I do have an ending in mind now, unlike a year ago, when this was just random warped-ness… ^_~

**BoromirDefender:** Hey, you're back! ^_^ And you'd want this to be in the movie? o_0 You sure about that…? Heh - no, really, I'm flattered! Thank you for such a kind comment!

**Yeth:** Hey, don't apologise! I was just curious… I used to have a reviewer called 'Seth' and just wondered. Anyway, thank you for continuing to read my fic!

**Dark Poetic:** Heh – I thrive on cliffies! ^_^

**Cmdr, Gabe E: **The pleasure's all mine, believe me – I've been working very hard on this story lately, though I'm soon going to hit a point of _'ermm… now what?'_ Well, I **do** know what I want to happen once the next few chapters are done, it's just a case of getting it all written and in a comprehensive and plausible way. Anyway, keep reading! I love enthusiastic reviewers! ^_^

*******************************************************************************************

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 24**

Obi-Wan stared at the wall, watching condensation drip down it in tiny globules. The cell was stuffy and so far under the ground that he dare not think about it. He and Mace were no longer convicted or even accused of the recent murder of San Hill, yet they were still being held captive like criminals… It was an insurance policy more than anything to make sure that justice was done.

Kenobi laid back on the stone floor with a sigh. Windu was laid on the cot over the other side of the room, though he looked as uneasy as Kenobi felt. The Separatists were now in control here - naturally, they would be; the mayor had had no choice but to side with them, risking accusations of treachery, or worse, he if still - even now - gave the Republic his vote. And Kenobi could see only a rough ride ahead if the Corporate Alliance's magistrate was the one pulling the strings. A lawyer on the case was the last thing they needed…

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Kenobi arched his head in Mace's direction, throwing the Jedi Master a frown; "What?"

"I'm sorry," Windu repeated, shaking his head, "You told me that Anakin shouldn't have been left alone, you warned me of all this… but I didn't listen."

"Master, please… this kind of thing wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"But you had something of the likes in mind, I wager - I remember how concerned you looked."

Obi sighed, defeated - Mace could read him like a book.

Windu shook his head again, "Why didn't I listen?"

"We cannot undo what has been done," Kenobi whispered, "If it is the will of the Force, so be it…"

Windu made a quiet laugh, reminiscing of times gone by; "Do you remember one of the things Dooku always used to say?"

Obi looked to him, unable to ignore the melancholy in Mace's posture; he shook his head in response, "No, master."

"He used to say 'Nothing happens by accident'," he replied, exchanging glances with Obi, "I bet Qui-Gon would have said it to you, too…"

Kenobi smiled, recalling several incidences where his Master Jinn had indeed eminded him of such.

" 'Nothing happens by accident'," Mace repeated, staring down, "What a thing to say… do things really all happen for a reason? Did Qui-Gon die because he was meant to? Did Serenn turn because the Force wanted him to? Are the murders, rapes and foul deeds that occur in this galaxy every day happening for a reason?"

Kenobi sighed, looking down - he couldn't answer that question. He'd never tried to understand his mentor's words, he'd just accepted them; "I don't know, my master," he finally muttered, "I really don't know."

*******************************************************************************************

Argente was indeed in complete control. The Sullustan mayor proved to be a typical member of his species in that he was shy and submissive - a well-known trait of his kind - and Passel had quickly taken advantage of this trait, getting a treaty signed between Sullust and the Confederacy, and also swaying them to keep the two Jedi ambassadors imprisoned until the Republic had done justice to the dead San Hill… whether San warranted this kind of justice or not.

Meanwhile, Palpatine, a wily politician himself, knew that he in turn faced an uncompromising foe in the magistrate, and had to think deeply about how to deal with Argente. He needed to get the two Jedi off of Sullust quickly, get the unfortunate situation with Anakin sorted, and also continue to uphold the reputation of the Republic, a reputation that was now tainted by the reckless quest of this one, impudent Padawan…

The last thing he needed before he embarked on his verbal battle with Passel, however, was Senator Antilles on his back…

"Let me talk to him, Chancellor," Bail insisted as he trailed Palpatine about the halls of the Senate, "I'm sure I can reason with this 'Argente'."

"My dear Antilles," the Chancellor replied, "I feel that you've already contributed enough to this case as it is - let me finish the affair. I can handle it."

"But Chancellor…"

"No 'buts', please, old friend. You do not know this magistrate - he is not a foe to be easily reckoned with. We have played into his hands, and now, I must play out of them, or face a deterioration in my Republic so rapid that our cause will be over before we even see it coming." He stopped, giving Bail one of his notoriously empty smiles, "Good day to you."

Antilles heaved a large sigh - Palpatine was taking his 'emergency powers' overly seriously for his liking, and doing everything without council. He didn't like it. But it had been ruled by the Senate, and he couldn't overturn it - it just wasn't possible with all the support the Chancellor carried - and, even if he _could _topple the ruling, it would only weaken the Republic further and lose him immense popularity.

Bail clenched his fists, tightening his lips in frustration as he watched the Supreme Chancellor disappear into a lift shaft alone. He prayed Kenobi and Windu came out of this alive, or else he would have to take the full blame and his influence in the Senate would quickly be gone - and he worried for a senate that was becoming increasingly filled with those who, as one, solely supported the ever-more domineering Palpatine.

*******************************************************************************************

"So you decide to talk to us yourself, Chancellor, rather than send your _busybodies_ to do your work for you?" Argente seethed as soon as he and the Chancellor faced one-another via the holo-proj'. 

Palpatine smiled sourly, "My Jedi Knights, I believe you mean - we, the Republic, act as one together - we don't count just one man as our prevailing leader. My Jedi, therefore _are_ me, or are at least as good as. Do not talk of them as though they are of the lowest level of a hierarchy…"

Passel sneered, "But of course… therefore, you give me leave to blame you for the death of my comrade, the illustrious San Hill. If your Jedi _are_ you, as you state so bluntly, then you are as culpable as the murderer who committed this foul deed!"

Point to Passel - Palpatine ground his teeth together, having fallen into his own trap.

"This Jedi," he continued, trying to recover, "Has turned renegade - a renegade is not classified as part of a body, therefore cannot be compared or likened to those in my Republic still loyal and siding with the law. I, nor anyone other of the Jedi Order, is guilty of this crime - none but the murderer himself."

"So bring this murderer to justice - or does this no longer exist in your failing Republic?"

"If you can find him, then bring him to me - he's as good as condemned as soon as we find him… and prove him guilty, of course."

"What do you mean by that, Chancellor?"

"Innocent until proven guilty is the way of things, is it not? Or does the Confederacy's idea of 'justice' differ from ours?"

"The boy, Skywalker, is guilty. We have witnesses and proof. Bring him to justice, or face losing your support base faster than you can say your name."

Palpatine paused, his eyes narrowing onto the magistrate, "We cannot rush these matters, your grace."

"No, we cannot," the reptilian judge returned, "But you do not have time to waste - I have two of your Jedi captive here on Sullust - a world that has _signed _to Count Dooku's movement - and if Anakin is not found guilty, the only other culprits - these two Knights - will be the ones sentenced on his behalf."

"Justice is a twisted thing in your mind, Magistrate…" Palpatine growled, "You know yourself such misconduct will bring you no support."

"On the contrary, Chancellor, I know of many who'd be pleased to see any two from this corrupt corps put to their deaths. These Jedi are as good - or bad, as the case may be - as any, in the eyes of the majority -"

"What 'majority' is this?" the Chancellor blurted out.

Passel only continued, "And their executions will be just as accepted as that of this 'Anakin Skywalker', one who so many recently spoke of as such a 'godly individual'…"

"What is it that you're saying exactly, your grace?"

Argente clasped his scaly hands together, "We will not release these Jedi until you have brought Anakin Skywalker to justice."

"You are ransoming them for this Padawan's imprisonment?"

"We will accept no more than death - a life for a life."

"That is not how we do things in this institution!"

"Then face losing it!"

"We will not be subject to these kind of threats…" Palpatine snarled, bringing the argument to a close.

"Fine," Argente smirked, "Then come and get them…"

The Chancellor's icy eyes tightened on those of Argente before he nodded stiltedly, "Then so be it.."

*******************************************************************************************

Nute was in a bit of a nervous state - he was partially excited by the prospect of getting his revenge on the Naboo, anticipating a call from the Count at any time to follow his lead and invade the peaceful planet once more, but he was also quaking in fear - word had finally reached him of San Hill's murder.

"Oh, this is awful!" he gasped, fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes.

His aide nodded, looking down in a faint mark of respect to the dead leader of the Banking Clan, "Aye, it is indeed… that poor man…"

"No, not him!" Nute dismissed, "I didn't like the man myself - he had it coming to him - but… my word, what if this crazy Jedi comes after us? What if the Republic are sick of this and are beginning to do things the wrong way?"

The aide looked rather confused and at the same time shocked, " 'The wrong way'?" he eventually asked.

"Yes - fancy _murdering_ one of us like that! I mean, how despicable!"

"But… don't we also murder those in the Republican ranks…?" the aide dithered.

"Yes, but we're allowed to do it! They're not supposed to!"

The aide blinked, certain he'd missed something.

"Oh, I pray that we're safe from this creature…" the Viceroy went on, plodding off the bridge of his starship and out into the hall beyond.

Still the aide blinked, his brow creasing as he strove to comprehend the conversation.

*******************************************************************************************

"Padmé!!" the Naberrie family seemed to chorus as one as they reached her, crowding about her on the patio. They were all lost for words, her visit coming as a complete surprise - they hadn't even known where she'd been once the Battle of Geonosis had elapsed, but never in their wildest dreams had they dared to hope of seeing her back home again!

"My little girl!" Jobal cried, the first to put her hands about Padmé's shoulders and embrace her hard, "Thank the Force you're all right."

Ruwee nodded in concurrence, "It's wonderful to see you again, Padmé…" he said, stroking her head fondly.

"Where have you been?" Sola asked, "We were so worried! And…"

"Not now, Sola," Jobal insisted, before she turned back to Padmé and said, "How about a bath, some clean clothes, and a meal? I think that'd get us off to a great start."

Padmé smiled, "I would like that, mum," she nodded, before she knelt down to Ryoo and Pooja and gave them both a big hug, "I would like that."

It'd been a long time since she'd last had a bath where she could relax - it felt good to be home. And it was sheer bliss when, afterwards, she had a decent wardrobe of clothes to change into. She made a note to herself that, when the time regrettably came for her to go back, she should pack plenty of her things to take with her. She soon emerged refreshed and a little happier from her old bedroom in the house, and then joined her family for dinner. 

Ryoo wrinkled her nose up in disgust as a pile of pasta and vegetables was placed before her. Pooja would have laughed, but the same monstrosity was set before her as well. They exchanged glances, looking imploringly to mummy… but Sola just gave them the 'eat it or else' look, and they both picked up their knives and forks (Pooja in the wrong hands) before they began to slowly chomp away. Padmé, in contrast, was most thankful for the dish.

"My word, Padmé," her father chuckled as he watched her eat, "Did they starve you or something?"

Padmé swallowed her current mouthful before she replied, "No… but you don't get good food on the go, and no food like yours, mom."

Jobal smiled, "Thank you, dear."

Sola was still edgy, dying to push on with things, "Where have you been, Padmé?" she asked, twisting her pasta round idly with her fork, "We've been so worried."

"Oh, Sola…" Jobal sighed again.

"No, it's all right, mom," Padmé conceded with a hesitant nod, "I think you all have a right to know…"

Sola smiled empathetically, "The holo-reporters made huge news of it - saying you'd joined these rebels and betrayed your cause…"

Padmé looked down, the truth hurting, "I can imagine," she nodded.

Ruwee sighed, feeling much concern for his youngest daughter.

"So you have joined them…?"

Padmé nodded steadily, "Yes."

"But why?"

"I had to, Sola… please understand."

"But I can't understand - you worked so hard for the Republic, so very hard. It doesn't add up - you know it doesn't."

"I know, Sola, but… well, Count Dooku opened my eyes to something I didn't even know existed in the Republic, something so vile that it threatens to bring the entire constitution down, and is the reason that it was rotting in the first place."

"And what is this 'thing'?" Jobal intervened.

Padmé looked between them both, giving her father a brief glance also; "The Sith Master," she said.

They all looked at her, half confused and half shocked.

"And you believe this 'Dooku', this renegade Jedi?" Sola added.

Padmé gave her an honest look, "Yes… I can't explain why, but -"

"Padmé, do you have any firm evidence of this?"

"Well, no, but -"

"Then what has gotten into you? I think you're hiding something."

Padmé glanced down shamefully, whilst Ruwee gestured his fork toward his eldest child, "Please, Sola, enough."

"It's true, father," she objected, "I don't want Padmé to be suffering in silence because of some threats by these Separatists or something…"

"There's been no threats," Padmé stated, "It's all just very confusing and I can't explain it all - you know how politics is."

Sola nodded, "Yes, though I often wish I didn't…"

"Just tell us how you came to be here, my dear," Ruwee asked calmly, "That'll be enough."

Padmé nodded again, "I suppose you've heard that I signed Naboo away… well, it's to do with that. It's not a decision I made lightly, or even wanted to make, but it was just one that I _had _to make… Count Dooku and I -"

"He's here? On Naboo?"

Padmé turned a weary eye on Sola again and affirmed her reply, "Yes, he's here."

Sola seemed to mull this over to herself whilst her sister continued; "As I was saying, we've come here to finalise this signing, and have had brief talks with the queen… unfortunately, if the monarchy and delegation decide against Dooku's claim, he's got the Trade Federation in the wing to _make _them agree…"

The entire family, bar the children, heaved great sighs; "Not another blockade, for Force's sake," Ruwee gasped.

"I'm sorry," Padmé added, quite mortified by it all, "It's not my wish at all, but once you're under Dooku's wing, it takes a lot to have any impact on his mind and his decisions."

"He's a charismatic man, I've heard," Jobal said.

"Yes, he is…"

"With a powerful voice."

"I'd say 'manipulative'."

Sola watched her sister warily before a squeal from Ryoo caught her attention, and she saw that Pooja had flicked a pasta missile into her hair. Sola sighed, "Oh, girls, what have I said about being silly at the table?"

The two swiftly looked most sheepish, and glanced at one-another, trying to expose the guilty party.

Sola got to her feet and took Ryoo by the hand, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She walked the girl out and into the 'fresher room. Pooja remained quite alone now, and jabbed at her food jadedly…

They all sat and ate in silence for a while, before Ruwee said, "Now, Padmé, I don't fully understand what you're doing in these political matters, though I know you don't do anything without good reason, but please, just take care - you're messing in things too big for just yourself alone and it doesn't help that you always keep things to yourself. It wouldn't hurt for you to share your matters with someone you trust, you know - it wouldn't hurt to open up."

Padmé dropped her fork into her bowl:

_            ~"It'd do you no harm to –"_

_                        " 'Open up' – yes, I've been told a million times! Back off!!"~_

"Padmé?" Ruwee asked, startled.

She looked back to her father quickly, coming back to herself; she smiled, "Sorry, dad… it's nothing. And I'm sorry about all this, I really am… But I've fallen into this mess, and I'm just going to have to do my best to get out of it again."

Ruwee gave her the first encouraging smile that she'd had from anyone in a long time, "And I'm sure you will, my little dear - I'm sure you will."

*******************************************************************************************

"Wanted to see me, you did, Supreme Chancellor?"  the diminutive Master Yoda asked as he stood before Palpatine in his Senatorial apartment.

"Yes," the Chancellor nodded, a distant look in his eyes, "I want you to gather some of your best Jedi to report to me for service immediately."

"Immediately, excellency?" Yoda asked uncertainly, "For what cause, may I ask?"

Palpatine looked straight into Yoda's eyes, and the small Jedi felt as though an icicle had struck his heart - it was a sensation he'd never had the displeasure to feel before; "We're going to war,"  the Chancellor replied plainly.

**TBC…**


	25. The Core of the Heart

**Author's Notes:** Ahem _*clears throat*_ - this chapter contains **bad language**, **violence** and the revelation of some rather **disturbing** facts. _*blinks*_ You have been warned. _*runs away quickly*_ Heh.

*_For Strider's Girl - the long-awaited rematch! ^_~ *_

*******************************************************************************************

"ECLIPSE"

**Part  25**

Dooku hadn't been wholly untruthful - he _had _needed some time to himself. But now that he was alone with his mind, he wasn't so sure that it'd been a good idea… 

He'd let his feet take him for a walk, guiding him from his lodgings, and he'd ended up here, in the palace's Power Core.

It was a huge place; between multiple catwalk levels and maintenance shafts, large humming columns of raw energy pulsated, deadly to the touch and unpleasant to be in the presence of. The Count rolled his sleeves back as he entered the cavernous chamber, trying to offer himself some comfort in the Core's close atmosphere; he wasn't planning on staying here long, anyway, but something had drawn him here, and he wanted to find out what…

His eyes wandered the far reaches of the hall whilst his feet paced down the central walkway – the place had an eerie, deathly feel to it; the walls echoed with voices of old, and throbbed with a pain and an anguish that had long since been forgotten.

_            ~ "We'll handle this" ~_

The scuffling and pouncing of feet resonated once more over the empty floor and flickered round the inner confines of Serenn's mind; the hum and fizzle of lightsabres joined the rhythm as they swerved and crossed, accompanying the laboured hissing and grunting of the combatants' breaths. Even the burning ire that had once been in each of the warriors' eyes could almost be felt again…

With an almighty leap, Dooku vaulted onto a platform high above, a choice he let the Force automatically make for him. He landed cat-like on the higher metallic surface before he once again went on with his short journey. 

The Force continued to guide him, continued to give his mind's eye a demonstration of what had gone before, of what had transpired here: By now, in the duel, limbs were growing tired, and - as the combat grew more desperate - more savage moves began to take precedence over those more honourable; elbows met chests, boots struck jaws…it wasn't your usual elegant Jedi combat style, but a battle pushed one to their limits – there was no place for etiquette when your life was at stake.

Further on the Count walked, his footfalls echoing faintly where furious boots had a decade ago stomped. He came to a halt when he reached a hallway, one filled with cycling red doors.

His eyes became dark as he stared straight through them to the Melting Pit, laying ominously at the corridor's end – he felt a cold rage begin to overcome him, one identical to the rage he'd unleashed back at the time, when **it** had happened…

He closed his eyes:

_            ~ Obi-Wan stood restlessly on the spot, cut off by several doors from his master. His palms were sweating, his heart racing – the Sith Warrior was but metres from him, yet he could not reach him or his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. 'Come on' the Padawan urged the cycling doorways, staring at them vigorously, almost hoping that they would back down in return…_

_            Nothing happened._

_            The time crept by as slowly as it could… The Sith Warrior paced before Jinn, only one doorway from him, whilst Qui-Gon sat on his knees and meditated. ~_

The doors cycled off. Dooku's eyes shot open and he walked forward, passing four doors at one time before halting for the next cycle.

_            ~ Obi-Wan was now at the final door, lightsabre ready. The last cycle hadn't been enough – he had to wait out yet another turn before he could reach his flailing mentor. But his heavy heart told him already that it was too late… ~_

Serenn sighed, feeling a painful twang in his heart – it was all so clear, all so plain, now that he was here, at the place where it had transpired. But it was also only the more heartbreaking. His body was filled with raw wrath and agony, his old wounds torn open once more, though he knew that he only had himself to blame; he had chosen to come here, after all…or had chosen to allow himself to be led here.

The doors cycled off and he made it to the core – the infamous melting pit. A stillness more deadly than any he had so far passed through met him with full force, and he closed his eyes once more, becoming one with the Force and hearing the ghosts of the past call out to him…

_            ~ "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" ~_

The Separatist cringed as the cry of Obi-Wan tore through him, his head booming with a sudden agonising jolt: Qui-Gon Jinn had been run through. 

His hands tightened into solid balls and he dropped to his knees.

_            ~ "It is too late…" ~_

Sabres swung in frenzy as youthful bodies, guided by youthful fury, rushed against one another in combat.

_            ~ "Obi-Wan…promise…" ~_

The young men somersaulted, cart wheeled and fought at unbelievable speeds, their bodies fuelled with determination, blinding them from pain and fatigue, blurring their mind and clouding their senses. All that mattered was the moment and the honours of their masters.

_            ~ "Promise me you'll train the boy" ~_

The young Jedi was unequally matched by the young Sith, however, and the Padawan soon fell victim to the Dark Lord's powers, flung down the pit's central core by a mere waft of the Sith's hand. Hanging onto an appendage on the pit's edge, his lightsabre lost, he knew, as well as his opponent, that the only thing standing between his consequent survival or death was the mere strength of his hold….

_            ~ "Yes, Master" ~_

The young Jedi made an incredible comeback, however – he persevered, brought on the Force, and even risked elements of the Dark side to leap out of the pit and back onto the surface above. Drawing his Master's idle weapon to his hand, he turned, and - with his only wish then being to avenge his master - swung the lightsabre in a point blank blow. There was a gasp, then a spray of blood, before shock finally permeated the features of the Dark warrior. He fell backwards down the pit, cleaved into two. 

The young Jedi stood there for but a moment, his body calming from its exertions, before he reluctantly came to terms with his grim victory.

_            ~ "He is the Chosen One…he will bring balance" ~_

The Padawan became the Master, and his childhood ended the moment he found out that even he, a Jedi, was going to die.

_            ~ "Train him" ~_

Three shadows of the past of which only Kenobi remained alive today; only he emerged from that horrific battle.

"Only my Kenobi…" Serenn mused in a restrained whisper, reopening his eyes and coming back to the present. His hand was clutched over his heart, the events that had long ago transpired here continuing to replay over in his mind, again, and again, and again…

"You taught him well, Qui-Gon, my old friend," he added, looking up into the high vaulted ceiling above, "But you never were a keen fighter yourself. If you had been, then perhaps you would still be alive today." 

He paused for a moment, allowing himself a deep sigh; "Where that would leave me now," he eventually pondered, looking blankly across the metallic floor, "I know not…"

Again and again, the vision of the demonic Darth Maul running his Padawan through replayed before his mind's eye, until he knew off by heart every single flinch of agony and despair that arose in his former protégé's face, until he knew the exact timing of the move that killed him, the exact position of the rupture through his torso, the exact moment of his fall, and every time he heard the horrified, helpless scream of the young Obi-Wan, crying out "NOOO!" in vain as he watched his master's life taken from him. It was the heart-wrenching cry that Serenn had heard at the time, wherever he had been – he could not remember for sure – he could only recall the pain he had felt, the agony, the grief. And it had haunted him and plagued his nightmares ever since…

He realised that he was now short on breath, hunched over his knees, heart aching and chest tight; "Why?" he gasped, "Why is Fate playing with us like this?"

_            ~ "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" ~_

"Why do I constantly find that I'm at odds with myself? Why is my own blood played against me? Am I battling myself?"

Confusion saturated the former Jedi's mind, a confusion that he had long kept trapped beneath the darkness of his cold, metal psyche, the psyche that had ruled him for the past decade; now, though, this place had finally released it from its cage…

"All my life, I've tried to do what is right, or whatever it takes to make things right…so why is it that I often question my actions? Why am I feeling regret, and what for? Why have the boundaries of right and wrong blurred before me, and why am I doing what I _know_ for certain is wrong to make me feel right?"

/There are no sides to the Force/

Serenn froze, and he looked about himself; he was not alone. "What?" he queried quietly.

/There are no sides to the Force/

"There certainly are."

/There are no sides to the Force – only sides to those who use it/

He swallowed, a faint smile pricking up at the corners of his mouth, "Now the Padawan teaches the Master, eh, Qui-Gon?" He pushed himself to his feet, inhaling deeply, "I miss you, old friend. Part of me misses you, but…I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know where I'm going. I want order, I want this galaxy to work, I…"

/How can we judge each other when we can't judge ourselves?/

"More philosophical lectures?" he growled.

/How can you judge others when you can't judge yourself?/

"I don't know what you're talking about! I don't try to judge others, and I'm beyond judging myself – I don't even know who my 'self' _is_!"

/Then find out before it is too late/

A frown furrowed his brow.

/Jedi or Sith? Ally or Foe? Lover or Abuser? Loyalist or Traitor? Father or Destroyer? Master or Apprentice?/

Another slight smirk rose on Dooku's countenance, "Still wry as ever, Padawan…"

/Jedi/

"The Order couldn't contain me – or you. It trapped us, and you know it…"

/Ally/

"To the Republic? No… It is in need of change, we all know that – you can't tell me honestly that it isn't."

/Lover/

"You know as well as the rest that I was never loyal to the code – who was? I've even heard that you, too, once fell in love. Perhaps we are not the offenders – perhaps it is the code that needs to change, along with the ever-changing times…"

/Loyalist/

"To whom, Qui-Gon? To you, of course, but to the Republic? To the Jedi? I think not. You, like my other Padawans, were the children I never –"

/Father/

"…never had." He paused and gave the air a scowl, withdrawing for a moment.

/Master/

He blinked, shaking his head, "I _was _a master… am now an apprentice again. Are you saying that I'm worth more, that I should still be a master? I still have much to learn, old friend… much more." He paused once more and allowed himself a quick smile; he sensed that his time here was almost up - it was time for him to go.

"Good day, my Padawan," he whispered to the vacant chamber, "Until our next meeting." 

He bowed sincerely, then made his way out.

Serenn emerged from the Power Core not long afterward and, as he made his way through a starfighter hangar, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks - his senses had latched onto something, a huge ripple in the Force… Something was amiss.

His eyes drew over to a dark corner of the hangar, and there they stopped, narrowing toward the gloom; "I know you're there, Skywalker," he growled, "There's no need to be shy… Come on out."

Anakin emerged like a creature of the night from the shadows, his eyes burning with a passionate frenzy, "I've been waiting for you," he said.

"So, you finally show your face," the Count began, his hand hovering ready by his sabre, "You've disobeyed your council and run amok, killing one of my colleagues in the process, causing an intergalactic strife far worse than that which we started with… and all just to get to me?" He laughed guardedly, "Even I wasn't that reckless as a Jedi or Padawan…"

"They hold me back," Skywalker retorted, "I need to stop you now and avenge my Padmé before it's too late."

The Count grinned, shaking his head, "Stop me? Boy, you can't possibly have learnt enough since our last meeting to allow you to even come _close _to equalling me in battle - there just hasn't been the time."

"You're blinded by arrogance."

"No, you are the one who is blinded, child; I praise you for your tenacity and determination, but must condemn you for your ever-prevailing stupidity…"

"We shall see… You're just all talk!"

Dooku snickered, "I believe that the shiny appendage in place of your arm contradicts that claim."

Anakin ignored his scorn; "You know why I'm here," he stated simply.

"For a rematch, no?" the Count lightly rejoined.

Ani drew the hilt of the sabre by his side into his metallic hand, "You got it, old man," he nodded, "But you may be able to save yourself the bother if you cooperate…"

Serenn chuckled, " 'Cooperate'?"

Anakin pointed his sabre nozzle in Dooku's direction, "Just hand over Padmé now and there'll be no trouble."

"Oh, how you make me laugh," Serenn went on slyly, " 'No trouble', indeed… You're intent on fighting me, anyway; I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your every spoken syllable."

"Stop talking so much shit, 'Serenn'!" the Padawan snapped.

Dooku only shook his head, "Tch, tch… foul language can't hurt me, and it's not clever, _boy_. Any foolish lout can cuss."

Anakin hurled his Jedi cloak to the floor, taking a grip of his lightsabre with both hands, preparing for battle.

Once more, Serenn only chuckled, "Oh, be serious, Skywalker! Do you really think you have what it takes to match me in combat?"

"I checked up on you in the Archives - I know your fighting style…"

"Oh, I feel most threatened."

"Plus I'm the Chosen One - the most powerful Jedi ever. It'll be no problem…"

"It certainly _won__'__t _be a problem…" Serenn conceded, "When you're dead."

Anakin's lip trembled in fury and, with a vicious momentum, he flung himself across the hangar floor, the green blade of Qui-Gon Jinn bursting to life in his grasp. Without delay, Dooku's sabre was also drawn, and their blades met with a terrific crackle. 

Whilst their weapons fizzled and sparked against one-another, Serenn and Anakin locked gazes, and - though it was debatable as to which of the two fumed with the more fury - a most notable dark malice had suddenly overcome Dooku's brow; "You arrogant brat," the separatist hissed, unblinking, "You dishonourable child, you would use my former Padawan's weapon against me?" 

Anakin threw him a cocky shrug, "I'm sure Qui-Gon would be happy to know it'd been put to good use."

"I thought you would have respected him more than that…" Dooku glowered.

"I respect him enough to defend his honour against his former master, who turned to the Dark side…"

Dooku's glare only hardened, his grip remaining startlingly unyielding.

With a grunt, Ani tore away from the Count, before he then began to sling several jabbing shots toward the elder warrior; Dooku effortlessly deflected every incoming blow with a single-handed parry, however, much to the boy's annoyance…

"Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about 'Qui-Gon's nobleness'," Anakin went on impatiently, "I came here to find Padmé - now where is she?"

"She's not far," Serenn eventually replied, his mood much more embittered than it had been to start with, "Not far…" He was next to launch an assault, and swung a fluid cleaving shot toward the Padawan's knees. Anakin cleared this, leaping over the lethal, red blade, before returning a complimentary shot toward Dooku's stomach. The Separatist sprang backward, knocking the green blade away, before waiting for the next assault, his glare upon the boy unyielding.

"You'd better have not laid a finger on her," Anakin snarled, shaking his head, "You'd better not have harmed her!" His blade suddenly became a whirling vortex as he allowed himself to waltz into a towering inferno of rage, allowed himself to recollect the most foul and disturbing images he'd witnessed during his recent nightmares concerning the Senator and the Separatist, and allowed himself to then use these as fuel for his ever-growing fire of ire…

Serenn was well prepared, and parried the rapid volley of blows; "And if I have?" he replied as he deftly continued to deflect each assault with lightning reactions, his feet dancing fluidly back across the floor, giving him room to manoeuvre.

"Your life is forfeit!" Anakin bellowed.

Dooku surprised the Padawan by diving back into the fray with a powerful blow toward the Padawan's shoulder, a blow under which Anakin shuddered as he parried; "What's the matter, Anakin?" he taunted viciously, "Not jealous, are we?"

"Jealous? Of you, you scumbag?" Ani retorted, "Hah! I wouldn't waste my time envying the sorry likes of you!"

"Pity," Serenn smiled, "One would have thought that, if you truly loved Padmé, you'd feel pangs of jealousy toward the man who had taken her first."

Anakin's eyes narrowed as he watched a leering grin rise on Dooku's features; "Oh yes…" he went on, "Word reached me that the Force made you privy to my affairs."

"Then it happened," Ani stated in a pained daze, "It really happened…." A cocktail of emotions began to run through his veins - anger, hatred, shock, rage, despair, vengefulness - all of them building up into a crazed frenzy; "You bastard," he growled, "You twisted, evil -"

" 'Bastard', yes, I heard you the first time," the Count dryly interrupted, "Though I'll have you know I was a perfectly legitimate child."

Anakin wasn't amused; "You will pay," he snarled, "You will pay!"

"You can't undo what has been done, boy. You can't give Padmé back that which I have taken from her! Or that which she gave to me…"

"She wouldn't… I don't know how you did it, but -"

"Oh, victim of the green-eyed monster!" he ridiculed, "It isn't good, is it? Not only does an octogenarian defeat you in battle and take your arm and your pride, he also takes your 'girlfriend' - it's such a pretty situation..."

Skywalker snapped, "BASTARD!" he yelled, launching himself at Dooku. The two clashed, a friction and titanic rage burning between them.

"What makes you think she even wants to go back to you, Anakin?" the Count continued to provoke, "What makes you believe that she didn't give herself to me freely?"

"You lie! I know Padmé! She told me about how you could 'control' her!"

"Or maybe she just couldn't control herself."

"That's ridiculous!"

They broke apart, the power behind their ensuing strikes intense, their feet moving across the floor rapidly and their muscles pumping hard in order to support the exertion of their bodies.

"Padmé loved me!" Anakin stated indisputably, "She told me so herself, and _you_ witnessed it, back on Geonosis… you can't tell me that she loves you more!"

Serenn laughed, "Did I mention love?"

Anakin spun a shot toward the Count's head; Dooku parried and kicked Ani in the stomach; Anakin drew back for a moment, before recovering, and sweeping a cut up from the floor, aiming to cleave the Count in two through his groin…

Teeth clenched, eyes intensifying, Serenn slammed his blade down onto Anakin's and locked it against his, holding it down toward the floor. Both men glared at one-another, incensed breaths coming thick and fast from their gaping mouths; "Too close…" the Count seethed bitterly.

Anakin swallowed hard, shaking his head, "Not close enough!" he retorted. He threw himself into the air, and plunged his sabre down over Dooku's head; the Count raised his sabre and dropped to one knee, taking the full impact of the blow as it rained down upon him. He then thrust Anakin's sabre off of his, before rolling backward and flipping onto his feet. 

Skywalker barely had time to prepare himself for the next assault, though, as Dooku hurtled back into him without delay, hacking savagely at his other shoulder…

"I can sense your disappointment," Serenn taunted as Anakin shuddered beneath the vicious blow, "You wanted Padmé to be yours, didn't you? Yours and yours alone! But you can't have that anymore… the chance has gone. You're too late."

Anakin's face contorted in rage, every taunt on Dooku's behalf only serving to wind him up further and further; his heated rage pumped harder and harder in his ears and he lost what little patience he had left; "SHUT UP!" he cried, his anger empowering his skills, adding only more velocity and strength to his movements…

"Argh!" Serenn barked, stumbling backwards as the boy successfully penetrated his defences; he glanced to his chest - it had once again been seared by the Skywalker's blade. He looked back to Ani once more, "You shouldn't have done that…" he growled, before he expelled all of his breath one, tremendous battle cry, and pummelled his sabre into Anakin as hard as he could.

A savage fight ensued, with an amalgamation of fury, wrath and blood filling the air; the sabres crackled and fizzled against one another at incredible speeds, clashing, parrying, then clashing again in succession.

Serenn slashed Skywalker's shoulder, Anakin grazed Dooku's knee; Serenn scorched Ani's calf, the Padawan gashed the Count's thigh.

"I'll never forgive you for this!" the boy cried in the midst of the fray, "She was mine, she's always been mine - _my _angel! You shouldn't have taken her away from me!" He summoned a crate to him and sent it flying into Serenn's hand.

The Count cried as his lightsabre was propelled from his grasp and his palm throbbed with freshly drawn blood; "That's it, Skywalker!" he snapped, clutching his wounded hand with the other, "Fall further down the slippery slope! You cannot escape it." Turning his head in the direction of the crate, he sent it flying back to the Padawan with a mere nod of his chin; Anakin took it in his chest, and was knocked with a tremendous thump onto his back, his skull cracking against the metal floor. He yelled, his sabre spinning away from him across the floor and his sight blurring.

Dooku approached the waylaid Padawan slowly, watching him writhe in pain on the ground. For a moment the boy seemed to lay still altogether, and Serenn, brow furrowed, stood over him, searching for a sign of life.

Anakin's eyes then suddenly tore open; "You bastard!" he growled again, throwing himself straight up from the floor into Dooku's torso, bringing the lofty separatist down onto the floor and swinging a punch into his jaw.

The Count grunted as the boy's metal fist hit his maw, before Anakin then went on to pin him down firmly, standing over him on his hands and knees. He grasped the separatist's shoulders and flung them up, then down, consequently smashing Serenn's head against the floor. The Count barked sharply again, but quickly gathered his senses, and hurled his knee up into the back of Skywalker. The boy was knocked astray, allowing Serenn to take precedence in the brawl as he wrenched himself up from the floor and straddled himself over the Padawan, reversing their prior positions.

Dooku drew his hand back, preparing to strike Anakin on the head, but Ani's anger was too powerful an opponent; "Get off me!" the young Jedi yelled, the Force rallying to him and throwing the Count off him via a huge push to his chest. Dooku gasped as he was sent flying several feet across the hangar, before skidding to a sharp halt on the metal surface.

The two warriors were overtaken by frenzy, numb to rationality and pain, determined to just be the victor.

Serenn catapulted onto his feet, "Foolish child!" he yelled, thrusting his hand out before him and gathering the most malicious powers of the Force to him; Anakin watched the Count uncertainly from his place on the floor, feeling a spittle of blood trickle from one of his nostrils… until suddenly, as thunderous rumbles filled the air around him:

"Gach!" he cried, unable to breathe, an invisible yet palpable grip tightening about his throat and hauling him up into the air. As his eyes bulged, Anakin saw a slow, hate-filled grin rise upon Serenn's countenance - the separatist was enthralled by the devastating power that he was employing.

Ani writhed in the air, feet kicking about as they dangled above the floor, his hands clawing at his throat, searching to unhinge the invisible grip that both held and suffocated him.

The Count's eyes narrowed further, his self-control lost within the deep folds of the Dark side, his mind focused on nothing but the feral instinct to kill his rival… That was until he heard a lonely voice in the heart of the darkness…

/No master/

Eyes fading, Serenn began to come back to himself.

/No, master… please don't/

Dooku blinked hard, his concentration ebbing, and he looked up into the glossy, bulging eyes of Anakin as the youth tried to breathe; the Padawan was still no match - the contest was unfair, he knew that - but, still, the boy deserved it…

/Master, NO!/

Serenn cringed, Qui-Gon's voice ringing in his ears; he drew his hands to his skull, hearing, in the background, muffled voices from across the hangar. He dropped to his knees, releasing, at the same time, both his connection to Anakin and Anakin himself.

Nubian guards were suddenly at his side, speaking, though he could not hear them, trying to haul him back onto his feet; Anakin was unconscious on the floor, also being attended to.

"Sir, what happened? What happened, sir?"

Serenn stared at the boy, eyes heavy.

"Sir? Can you hear me? Sir?"

"Do you need a physician, sir?"

"What's happened here? What's going on?"

He shrugged off their hold, "Get off me!" he snapped, rising shakily back onto his feet, and drawing his stray lightsabre back into his hand; "He attacked me… arrest him."

The soldiers all just nodded, not sure whose side he was on, but having little choice except to follow his command. His claim didn't seem too farfetched by the looks of things, as it was.

Taking Skywalker up in their hold and carting him away, the soldiers exited the hangar, whilst Dooku himself made his own slow, limping exit…

**TBC…**


	26. Into the Fire

**(Rather Long) Author's Notes:** Yes, I've been very naughty and have not updated for months. I'm very sorry, but inspiration hasn't been there, and I've been preoccupied with the fruits of the bizarre Snape-Hermione 'ship in the "Harry Potter" section. Twisted, yes, but so's this fic. I've also got university coming up, so I have a lot on my mind, and sometimes I just have to prioritise.

I've had the two chapters after this one written for months, you'll be irritated to know - it's just this one that's been causing me immense grief. I hope it's okay and it makes sense (I may trip up over some details - I forget what I've written beforehand after a while. If I make any plot mistakes or errors, point them out and I'll change them. I don't have a BETA to rely on, really.). I hope you enjoy it, anyway, and that it's been worth the wait. The rating's going up to an R, too - I don't think I can get away with a PG-13 any longer and I'd rather be safe than sorry with the rating. And sorry if the 'action' is in an unequal radius to the 'talking', but I prefer writing about characters and how they interact rather than all the action sequences.

If you want to talk/accost/slay/etc… me at all, please come and find me at Live Journal (under the name **Jurious**) or on Deviant Art (as **darth-jurious** - the link's in my FF.Net profile, anyway). Failing that, email me or just leave it in a review here. I like to hear feedback. Just no flames - you can criticise me, but do it properly and with reason, not for the sheer hell of it. If you don't respect me, I won't respect you.

**Ms8309:** Here you go!

**Dark Poetic: **Poor Ani ought to use his head once in a while. Heh. And I'm glad I've reached the middle – only another 100,000 words to go! OO Or something like that… LOL

**Audreidi: **A new Newbie (does that make sense?)! I'm glad you appreciate Padm's portrayal – I thought I made her too weak at first, but I'm doing my best as I go along. I hope it's plausible. And I love that word 'flaisy' – very nice! Almost onomatopoeic! Heh.

**SilverWolf47: **Beg all you like. LOL. I'm not sure if Qui will make another appearance, but I'm glad you appreciated his 'cameo'.

**Cmdr. Gabe E: **I'm going, going, gone. Sorry it took so long to update, but as is life. Thank you for your top support!

**Merrymoll:** I love all this chaos, all right. I'm in my melodramatic element. Hopefully the next 3 chapters will answer some questions. If not, well, you'll have to wait. Thanks for your continuing support!

**Leela74: **Thank you for the great comments – I'm glad you liked the battle-dialogue. It seems to be something I'm getting more praise for than I deserve, so I thank you again.

**Infamous One: **It won't change the events of "A New Hope", as far as I can see. I want my fic to be able to latch on to episode IV as an Alternate Story, just in a different way to how the canon story will. I really want to finish this before Episode III is released – I hope I can do it! Thank you for your continuing support!

**The End: **Cheers!

**Boromir Defender: **I think Dooku has a hell lot more to learn. Qui-Gon is the person who reminds him of his faults, I guess, and is a key to his past and all. It was a significant thing that passed between them and I'm glad so many people have recognised this. And I'd never want this to displace Episode I, though I thank you for the compliment.

**TurtleNinja: **Well, it's not supposed to be a heart-warming tale, so I'm glad it unsettles you. Thanks for reading my fic!

**PadawanMage: **Gee, I'd be frightened if Dooku **was** sat next to me as I wrote this. _shudders_ How intimidating would _that_ be! Thank you for the epic review – it was great, and even enlightened some points to me I hadn't thought about! I'm sorry for the looooooooooong delay in my updating, but it's here at last – enjoy!

**Kynstar: **Thanks for the great comments – I'm glad you find my Dooku a worthy one and you're enjoying the fic.

**Blinky: **Dooku's 'evil hold' over Padmé is diminishing for a reason. Think about it. _she hints_

**Aleviel: **Thanks for the compliments – I do try to keep everyone in character and developing at the right rate. It's great to hear people reassure me of that.

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 26**

Palpatine gave the Jedi called to him a short briefing before they left; "Unfortunately, our two Jedi ambassadors sent to Sullust have indeed fallen into a trap," he said, walking up and down before them, the group numbering ten in all, "And though we did plan, in a way, to cover this eventuality, the murder of San Hill was not amongst the foreseen circumstances and, therefore, things are a lot worse than first predicted…"

The Chancellor looked each Jedi hard in the eyes, "Talks with Passel Argente, Separatist head on Sullust, have all but crumbled and there is no chance of any further peaceful negotiations - we've been as good as asked to go to battle at Sullust."

All the Jedi remained still and attentive, preparing themselves for the task ahead.

"What would once have been a skirmish that we planned to launch on the unwary Separatists, should they choose to hold our Jedi captive, has now turned into a battle where both sides are well prepared and the element of surprise is long lost… To our misfortune, however, we also have no idea where the Trade Federation is, a faction of this rebellion that could well pose a threat and turn a battle, should they choose to intervene, _nor_ do we have any notion of the whereabouts of Count Dooku. We are indeed in a delicate situation."

He took a seat in his large, black chair and steepled his fingers, "I now tell you but one thing - and that is that we must win. Failure is not an option, for failure to succeed now could lose us the entire war. I do not exaggerate - the Confederacy has played its cards splendidly, and it could be to our ruin..."

"The search for Anakin - who has now sparked off an atrocious calamity in a war that we _could _once have kept under control - is still ongoing. In the meantime, your task is simple: retrieve the two Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu, from imprisonment on Sullust, and win whatever conflicts face you. You each have a full star cruiser and division of troops under your command, and I expect only the best from the Jedi corps. One thing the Separatists don't have is a fine set of Jedi to command their armies…" He smiled sadly, "That is all… and May the Force be with you, always."

------

Passel called the Separatist army to him, realising that it would not be long until the Republican forces turned up. He first made sure to blast the hyperspace-rings of the two Jedi he held captive into oblivion - they would not have a chance of getting back out the way they'd come if he had anything to do with it - then he made his strategy and set up his garrisons in orbit.

The planet Sullust would not be an easy conquest for the Republic, however… Even if they breached the barricade of starships standing in their way and gained access to the planet, they would have a hard time getting below the surface to the cities in which the Sullustans dwelled.

Passel knew this; it was always pleasing to hold the advantage in battle. All he had to do was hold out for long enough to allow Dooku to do his dirty work on Naboo and get things there sorted before the Republic even realised that they had, indeed, been made to focus their time and energy on an obvious diversion.

Obi-Wan stared further at the ceiling in his cell - it was about the most interesting thing in there - and thought about what was going on in the world beyond. He tried to connect with the Force and sense his protégé, tried to find where he was and what he was doing, but he was only met by a wall of darkness, a wall he could neither scale or break through. This dead-end frustrated him enormously and forced him to return to reality and stare at the equally unconstructive ceiling.

"You too, huh?" Mace suddenly asked.

Kenobi turned to his comrade in captivity and gave him a wholly uncertain look, "What?" he asked quietly.

"Can you not feel the Force?"

Obi sighed, "I can only see darkness through it…"

Mace seemed unsurprised, "It's as we thought…"

Obi sat upright, clutching his knees to his chest, "What do you mean 'as you thought'?"

Windu stared at him hard, "The Council have long feared it… our ability to use the Force is diminishing."

Obi-Wan looked completely shocked.

"The imbalance has grown so great that it seems as though it is almost giving favour to the Dark side…"

"You've known this for long?"

"We've feared it for some time…"

"And you haven't told us?"

"What's to tell, Obi-Wan? What ends will we achieve by telling our students that their powers are failing?"

Kenobi nodded - Mace had a point, but the difference between telling students and telling fully-fledged Jedi was another thing all together. He opened his mouth to voice his opinion when, suddenly, the cell shook.

As one, the two Jedi leapt to their feet, staring at the aforementioned ceiling, which was beginning to finally be of some interest. All around them, the floor resounded with gentle tinkles as small chips of stone dropped from the cavernous roof.

"What's going on?" Mace muttered.

Another massive tremor rocked the chamber within the next few seconds, sending the two Jedi flying backwards into a wall. More fragments of rock broke away from the ceiling and clattered to the floor whilst, outside, sirens began to howl and the sound of rushing feet could be heard stampeding about the corridors, people all over shouting in raised voices.

"They're here," Obi whispered, looking toward Windu, "They must be."

"The Republic?" Mace gasped.

"Who else can it be?"

"So much for peaceful negotiations…" Mace shrugged with a shake of his head.

There was another gigantic quake in the foundations which threw Windu and Kenobi this time to the floor, where they had to rapidly cover their heads as stone rained down over them.

"Well, this is fun…" Obi heard Mace quip once the vibrations settled once more.

"Let's hope they reach us before the cave closes in," he added.

"Thanks for highlighting that possible eventuality, Obi-Wan, I feel much better."

"You're welcome."

-------

Passel Argente swore. He didn't care who heard him. Watching the progress from the holographic map he'd had set up in the mayor's quarters, he could see that he had, indeed, pushed Palpatine to the edge of his wrath - most of the Republican fleet was on his doorstep!

He suddenly had the incredible urge to switch places with Nute Gunray, who would be safe and at relatively little risk from the Republic's army over near Naboo whilst the bulk of it was cumulating here faster than winning pundits at a pod race.

"Excuse me, sir? What are your orders?" an aide to Argente's left asked him for about the third time, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

Passel shook free from his ruminations and bit his lip; "Deploy the Droid Starfighters. Send a brace of Starships round to the rear of the Republican fleet, if possible - we could draw some away with that kind of diversion. And watch for any that evade our outer defences."

The ground shook with another devastating vibration; "I think it's a bit late for that," the aide quipped despite the moment.

Passel threw him a death glare; "Deal with it, then!"

The aide scuttled off whilst Passel returned his eyes to the battle readouts at hand; "We just have to hold on," he murmured through gritted teeth, balling his hands into fists, "I pray you have things under control, Count - I cannot hold them forever."

------

The Count did have things under control. Easily. He was playing the part of 'blissfully unaware' as far as the actions of the Republic and his fellow Separatists at Sullust went - Sidious kept him well enough informed - and it was a part he liked to play, and played well. He wasn't, however, 'blissfully unaware' of the bleeding gash on his hand, nor the burn over his chest, nor of the fact that his head was so filled to the rim with a blazing wrath, he thought it might implode on him at any moment. The injuries didn't bother him - he could deal with them - it was the stress and infuriation that Anakin caused him that affected him most. He was wound up so tight he needed a release. As he thundered toward his apartment in the Nubian palace, glaring at anyone who looked likely to challenge him about his bloodied state, an idea formed in his mind, an idea wrought from the pit of his anger and hate. His lips curled into a wicked grin and he backtracked a little, pacing on in an altered direction…

------

Kit Fisto hated Sullust. He was a creature of the waters, an amphibious being who preferred to be near lakes and seas than land. Planets covered in volcanoes and prone to spurts of molten rock weren't an option. At least, not until they were forced upon him. Sitting in the close confines of his Jedi Starfighter, he fought against the tirades of sweat dripping down his skin and concentrated on zipping down, in-between the Separatist Starships and their Droid Starfighters, to find his way onto the planet below.

The sight of Sullust's molten surface was enough to make anyone wish to be on a storm-ravaged world like Kamino - it made Fisto feel quite sick. As he skilfully dodged the Cofederacy's army, his large eyes caught sight of a few low-flying Republic crafts blasting and searing the surface below, trying to break through into the underground cities, or even to just find evidence of a way in. Kit shook his tentacled head, his sharp gaze peering from nook to cranny below as he fought to find a small and unobtrusive entrance. He theoried that once you were underground, you would have the means to find your way to any other part of the world - each and every city, he was led to believe, was connected by a vast subterranean network. The Sullustans burrowed much like rabbits, and had strength in numbers, so stayed well connected.

His fingers slipped on the controls as his skin brimmed with moisture; patience wasn't a virtue he could be at liberty to value right now, and he strove, with all his might, to discover a way down onto the planet - more for Obi and Mace's sake, but also his own. He'd hate to turn up looking like a fried eel.

-----

"I thought I'd die with more dignity than this," Obi grimaced as the heat began to rise in the cell.

Mace threw him a cynical glare, rolling back his sleeves and pushing at the primitive iron bars across the cell door; he leapt back from them suddenly as though electrified, though; "Argh! They're hot!" he snarled as though it were the fault of the bars.

"Really?" Obi-Wan jibed, merely raising an eyebrow as he watched Windu rub his hands.

"You are so like Serenn, you know, Obi," Mace retorted, a little more harshly than he intended, "Dry humour is _not _appropriate right now!"

Obi flinched a little, "Sorry, master," he murmured.

They both stood in an uneasy silence as they heard the conflict thundering over the planet far, far above. Some molten channel from the surface had been ruptured overhead - they could feel the heat of the lava as it seeped down some part of the underground network or other, coming closer and closer to their vicinity. Obi feared that it might be via the ventilation shafts that the molten rock was now flowing, a thought with made him fear that they all might suffocate in the blinding heat.

The ground shook once, then twice more; Mace dropped to his knees whilst Obi barrelled into a wall for support.

Windu was breathing heavily - it was as though he couldn't believe their ill-fortune. Two Jedi, trapped in a shabby, archaic cell, unable to escape, with hot, molten rock creeping ever-nearer. They could no longer hear a panic outside their cell, or anywhere nearby - all the resident Sullustans seemed to have scampered and any Separatist guards had also fled for their petty lives. No one was much bothered about leaving the two Jedi to burn to death, if it came to that, or perhaps just die from overwhelming heat.

"Where's the damn Force?" Mace muttered, "I really can't feel it."

Obi-Wan conceded that he, too, felt as though he'd gone blind - the Force just wasn't there like it used to be. It was vaguely still hanging around them, like a thin mist lifting in the dawn, but was evaporating quickly, cowering in the corners like an abused child. It wasn't offering itself up to either of them, instead giving over to fear and darkness.

"I can't understand why it's so weak," Kenobi said, trying and failing to summon enough to blast the metal bars aside.

"It's not weak, Obi-Wan," Mace said with a firm shake of his head, "It's just our ability that is diminishing, like I've said. It isn't favouring us any longer."

"But why?!"

"You know. I've already said. The balance has gone."

The only word that came to Kenobi's mind then was 'Anakin' - he knew beyond doubt that it was because of him, of the troubled youth Qui-Gon had landed him with, that the Force was unbalanced; it was because of the 'Chosen One', the boy who would one day save them, or, failing that, clearly destroy them.

Obi didn't have time to dwell on the matter however as, with a blast, the cell door was blown in. He and Mace were, once again, thrown against the far wall, and, as they recovered their senses, they both looked up to see Kit Fisto, dripping with sweat, stood across the precipice as the dust settled around him, his green lightsabre glowing in the gloom.

Obi and Mace blinked, unable to believe it.

Kit was far too flustered to be doing with a tearful reunion, however; "Get off you asses and move!" he snapped.

And they did.

------

The centre of Theed was coming back into sight now. Sola walked alongside Padmé as she escorted her sister back into the centre of the capital, the gualara trotting between them with her newly-packed luggage hauled over its back. The glorious dome of the palace rose into view as they ascended a rise in the road. There was an electricity in the air, a strange sense that something was about to change, for better or for worst. And Padmé knew that she was at the centre of it all, a mere pawn on the chessboard of a man she never even knew she was playing.

**TBC…**


	27. The Turning Point

**Author's Notes:** First thing's first, I'd forgotten how much of this chapter was inspired by a story about Anakin and Padmé, which detailed the couple in a startling new light. I am in so much debt to the author, it's untrue, and I apologise for not making this clear sooner. I'm surprised at how similar parts of this chapter have turned out to her story and, if they do seem too close, she's welcome to ask me to change or omit parts that I've written. So credit to Kelly B who wrote "Succumb".

This chapter is real nasty - REAL nasty - but you'll be glad to know that I won't be torturing poor Padmé like this for much longer – this is 'the turning point'. However, I've decided to up it to an R - I don't think I can risk a PG-13 for much longer. This is worse than Part 9 - "Nemesis" in some respects, but not in all. And, though I hadn't thought about it before, since I've watched McKellan's "Richard III" adaptation, I can't help but see parallel's with my Count, particularly in this chapter; Serenn's not quite as bad as the Shakespearian Richard, but still, the similarities are there… _shrugs_ Coincidence, I guess.

Take this chapter as you will, and see you at the next part!

Disclaimer: I'm a no longer a poor (as in skint, _not_ as in pitiable! ) ickle Sithling…but I still don't own anything!

* * *

****

Part 27

Padmé opened the door to her room in the palace where she was to sleep overnight, before final negotiations took place tomorrow. She would much rather have stayed with her family for a while than lodge here in the Palace, but Dooku didn't seem to trust her to be far from him at all – not unless he was satisfied that she could do nothing to compromise him or his mysterious endeavours. And she'd rather obey him than risk inciting his rage at the moment…

Personally, Padmé felt it most courteous of the Queen to be so kind to her and the Count - even _more_ so to the Count - by offering them such hospitality, especially when one considered that they together threatened to plunge Naboo head-on into the recently arisen conflicts.

She lugged her suitcase over to the table at the room's centre and turned to Sola, who had accompanied her here, giving her a fond yet sombre look; "Thanks, Sola," she nodded, turning away, "I'll be fine now."

Sola paced over to her sibling's side and put an affectionate hand on her shoulder, "But you're not fine," she returned, "You're hurting inside – I can see it."

"Don't fuss, please," Padmé sighed, wafting her hand off her, "I've got enough to think about – I don't need you grousing over me, too."

"I need to 'grouse' because you're always too selfless!" her sister replied in a light-hearted tone, "You ought to think of yourself once in a while, you know! Please just tell me what's bothering you - it'll help to get it off your chest."

Padmé put a hand to her forehead, feeling a migraine coming on, "It's nothing," she continued, rubbing her temples.

"Oh, Padmé, you always say that!" Sola countered, shaking her head gently, "There's been something fishy about this whole affair since it began."

" 'Affair'?"

"Yes - your joining the Separatists."

Padmé exhaled slowly, looking down.

"What made you join them? And be honest…" Sola queried conservatively.

"I just had to," she softly replied, "You have to believe me when I say it was for the good of our planet; I'm just certain that the Sith Lord is in the Senate, and, because of it, I can't serve the Republic anymore…"

Slowly, Sola nodded, still uncertain by Padm's evasive responses; she gave her sister another long, earnest look before she added, "There's something else, though, isn't there? Something other bothering you?"

Padm's brow furrowed as she turned back to face her, " 'Something else'?" she rejoined.

Sola stared hard into Padm's chestnut eyes, trying to break through her sibling's solid outer shell; "Is it to do with Anakin? That boy who you swore was 'just a friend'?" She smiled benignly, trying to cheer her sister with her typical teasing ways.

"No," Padmé assured her, saying no more; to be truthful, she missed Anakin and wished that he were here now. She hoped that he was okay; she hadn't seen him since the Geonosian conflicts, and he'd left those without an arm, thanks to –

"Count Dooku?"

Padmé jumped; "Sorry?" she asked her sister hastily.

"Count Dooku, I said - do you have any issues with him?"

Padmé went pale all of a sudden, her mouth slightly agape.

"I mean, concerning how you each view things and stuff, of course," Sola continued lightly, "I know that he's definitely not a contender for the 'potential boyfriend', not like that charming young Anakin…"

Her sister had only been jesting, and Padmé knew it, but she nevertheless felt like she'd just been clubbed in the heart by a savage jest; "That's not funny, Sola," she said sternly, her voice bitter.

Sola's face fell numb in shock, completely taken unawares by Padm's sour response; "I'm sorry," she murmured cautiously, "I didn't mean to offend you – I was only joking."

Padmé exhaled loudly again, running her hand back over her head, "No, _I'm _sorry…" she whispered, now feeling incredibly guilty for the way she'd acted, "Perhaps you'd just better go…"

"No, let's just talk for a –"

"_Please_, Sola… I'm not in the mood for talking right now. I'll be okay."

Sola silently regarded her younger sister for a moment longer, before nodding to herself, respecting her decision; "Okay… take care." She squeezed Padm's hand gently in an affectionate gesture, before she turned and left the room, giving her sister the solitude that she'd requested.

Feeling a further pang of guilt at how she'd treated her sister now that she'd gone, Padmé paused for a long time – her emotions were all over the place, and she didn't know how to control them. Sighing another time, she opened her suitcase and pulled out her nightgown, before slipping off her shoes and quickly pacing over to the bathroom to get ready for bed, the evening outside drawing well into its latest hours.

She was completely submerged within her own thoughts as she walked into the dark 'fresher room, guilt prodding at her like an irritating classmate in the back; she went into something of a blind, numb reverie, mechanically locking the door to the room, before she dropped her nightgown and pulled the cord to the light switch, which flickered on slowly overhead. Subsequently pacing to the sink, she clamped her hands about the rim, almost as though to steady herself - her head was starting to feel light and was swirling with shame - and it was then that she suddenly became aware that her grip on the sink felt rather odd, even somewhat 'gelatinous'… She frowned, slowly coming back to herself, and looked down, before gasping and tearing her hands from the basin - scarlet blood oozed around the edges and pooled at the plughole. Instantly, that dreadful, knowing feeling hit her, and she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above. Her eyes met with the Count's, which stared straight back at her via the glass.

She wheeled around, clinging to the sink behind her, and stared at him, beginning to wonder why this kind of thing shocked her anymore, "What in the _Force's _name are you doing here?" she hissed.

He cocked his eyebrow, as per usual, and gestured to his hand. She followed his signal, and looked to it - it was gashed across the palm and bleeding rather badly. Blood dripped down onto the shower floor whilst he sat on a unit by its side.

"Oh…" was all Padmé could muster in a faint whisper.

His eyes continued to bear into her, until he shifted a little in his seat, and said, " _'Not a contender for the 'potential boyfriend' ," _mimicking Sola coldly.

Padm's gaze tightened for a moment as she beheld him; her hands were going white under the strain of her clutch on the washbasin, her bones beginning to bear through her pale skin.

"Your sister's ridicule tells me that you haven't courted many…" Dooku added, keeping his eyes on the young Nubian

"What business is that of yours?" she growled, trembling with rage.

He shrugged, a carelessness and even slight bitterness in his poise, "I am but curious, madam."

She swallowed again, unable to draw her eyes away from his magnetic gaze.

"Are you of the 'love and politics don't mix' variety?" he continued, leaning toward her, his unwounded hand slung across his knee.

She sighed, having had this conversation too many times with her parents - and even more so with her sister - before; "Don't lecture me on 'love and politics'," she said quietly.

"I wasn't going to," he riposted, "I just gathered that, if boyfriends of yours have been as scarce as your sister's tone suggests, you put your career before your own well-being."

"Look," she snapped firmly, swinging her hand toward him, stained with the blood from the sink, "My private life has _nothing_ to do with you, and you have absolutely _no_ right to pry into it!"

He cocked his eyebrow again, seeming to enjoy this chastisement. This only enraged Padmé further; "Why are you here, anyway? You have your own 'fresher room…" she snarled, "I'm beginning to think that you're some kind of pervert…"

Serenn snickered as though she had just told a very funny joke, "Oh, Padmé, do you really think that I often go out of my way to plague the bathrooms and inner sanctums of virginal women?"

She gave him a stinging stare, "You seem to take the trouble of 'plaguing' my personal spaces all too often…"

"Oh, take it as a compliment – I can't help it if I find you attractive," he smirked; but then, as he lowered his tone, a sudden shadow loomed over his brow; "Besides…" he added, "You're not of that 'variety' of women anymore, are you?"

She felt her stomach somersault; "Of what variety?" she whispered.

His smile broadened into a leer, "Of that I just mentioned," he purred, his eyes dark and brooding.

She shuddered, a shiver running mercilessly through her body. Closing her eyes, she turned about to lean over the sink, and felt her head go light and cloudy again, and, for a moment, she wasn't sure whether she was going to remain conscious or not; his words had torn open that barely healed wound of dubiousness that inundated her faint memories of the first night she'd spent in his manor.

"I am being honest, my lady," the Count continued, "You are a most appealing young woman."

She opened her eyes again and stared numbly at the blood in the basin; "Don't talk to me like that," she snapped, turning back to glare upon him once more, her eyes ravaged with fury and distress, "You're an old man."

"Oh, your skills of observation are _astounding_, my lady!" he mocked her.

"Stop it!" she yelled, "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"You are alone," he ascertained grimly, "Very alone."

Padmé sighed again, and changed the subject; "I ask you again, what are you doing here?" she said softly.

He made a slight gesture with his bleeding hand, "I wanted to show you this."

She cringed, leaning away from him as best she could, "Get that away from me…"

"I had – how should I put this?" he continued regardless, "A little incident…"

"Looks more like an 'accident'," Padmé murmured, swallowing as she looked at his hand for a second time.

"It was a 'gift' from your true 'potential boyfriend'," he went on.

Padmé paused, her breath jarring in her throat, "Anakin?" she breathed.

"Yes, Anakin…" he nodded, "And he didn't just give me this, the generous boy…I've got knocks, cuts and burns all over the place. I don't think my jaw is broken, but it aches, I tell you now…and the boy almost succeeded in castrating me, which I wasn't too pleased about…"

Padmé would have laughed, but it seemed to signify too much to her; "I wish he had… Oh, Force, he must know! He must! That's why he did it…"

" 'Know'?"

"Where is he?"

Serenn shrugged, "Security have him - I wouldn't be surprised if he was sent off-planet as quickly as he has come… He's been a naughty boy since you last saw him, you know."

"Oh, poor Anakin!" Padmé went on hysterically, "He must know… He surely wouldn't risk coming otherwise…"

"Know what?" Dooku queried, rising to his feet.

"Oh, you _know_!" she sighed; she pushed passed him, sick of the sight of his dripping hand, and opened the unit on which he had sat, pulling a roll of bandage from it, and shoving it into his hand, "And get that blasted thing covered up…" she growled.

He took the roll from her but grasped her hand along with it, and studied the drying blood on her palm, the blood that she'd picked up from the sink - **his** blood. He began to caress her palm, running lazy circles round it lovingly.

She watched him, almost entranced, the motion soothing her, "Stop that," she murmured, determined not to let her guard down.

"Why?"

"You're still bleeding… I don't want your blood all over me."

He dropped the bandage roll onto the floor, and tipped her head up with his unwounded hand, keeping a gentle hold of her palm in the other; "But you're already covered in my blood. What does it matter?" There was a fire in his eyes again and a sensual ardour in his silky voice; it made Padmé shudder.

"That doesn't mean that I want more of it," she replied quietly, her voice a drowned whisper.

Their eyes locked, a poignant friction hovering between them, one that only intensified when Dooku chose to step closer to her and vanquish what little space there had been left between them.

She studied his face carefully, now noticing the beginnings of a bruise emerging on his cheek – another of the new 'gifts' he had received from Anakin, she thought. This gave her a little confidence, to know that Ani had given the old, former Jedi a 'whack', and the corner of her lip trembled, almost becoming a weak smile; she tried to conceal her mirth.

"I don't know what you think is so amusing," Dooku suddenly went on, his tone light yet underpinned with intimidation, "Our fight was not a pleasant one."

Padm's face went sombre suddenly as the thought of Anakin, covered in his own cuts, bruises and abrasions, filled her mind.

"Yes. Feel sorry for the foolish Padawan… he needs the sympathy."

"He knows what you've done to me - he knows about us," she whispered, "He won't stop until he's saved me…"

Serenn's eyes burned even darker with that passionate flame that Padmé knew all too well; " 'Us'?" he smirked impishly, "You flatter me, my dear. I had no notion that we were an item."

"Don't play fool with me!" she rejoined, tugging her hand hard in an attempt to tear it from his grasp; he did not yield, however. "What did he say?" she went on in a low tenor, "Did he say anything?"

The Count stared at her hard, tightening his clutch on her petite, little hand, and carefully studied her visage – he could see how truly frightened she was, her eyes glossy with anxiety, with her free hand hovering nervously about her belly; "Anakin didn't call me a criminal or even a traitor," he replied evenly, "In fact, I don't believe that he cares much for the war anymore, so much is he obsessed with you. He did threaten me, however; I was told not to lay a finger on you again at the risk of my own life." He allowed himself a callous smile and chuckled at that, "A bit of a comedian, isn't he?"

"He knows that you can't keep your _filthy _hands off me," Padmé growled.

Serenn just looked at her, the inferno burning stronger in his gaze; Padmé knew now that she'd had enough of his terrorization; "Let go of me," she ordered in as civil a manner as she could muster, trying not to further aggravate things.

He still didn't release her.

She looked at him angrily, desperation beginning to gnaw at her innards, "I said LET GO!!" she cried, trying frantically to once more yank her hand from his; still, his grip remained, and he tugged her back to him, before hurling her to his right and over into the shower unit, his lip twitching.

Padmé went tumbling into the cubicle, tripping over the rim of its glass door before she hurtled awkwardly into the tiled wall, yelping as she landed hard on her arm, which jarred beneath her. She pulled it into the hold of her other hand, watching as Serenn's fresh blood trickled from the palm he'd so gently massaged. Her feet were now, too, tinged with his scarlet fluid, from where she'd stepped through the puddle of blood at the unit's base…

She swallowed hard, the atmosphere becoming ever tighter as the Count pursued her into the shower, pacing right up to her and grasping her chin with his bloodied palm, jerking it up to face him; "Behave young lady," he hissed, his tone infused with menace, "You know that I can't abide vain strugglers…"

"Then tell me straight what you've done to me!" she growled, eyeing him fiercely, feeling her body fill with a rush of ill-omened iciness, "I can't bear this 'not knowing'!"

He slowly smiled, pressing his body against hers, and trapped her between himself and the wall, before he put his bleeding hand to her cheek and gently drew it down her neck, running it under the rim of her dress until he reached the curve of her shoulder. Padmé glanced to her uncovered shoulder, seeing a trail of crimson left in the wake of Serenn's wounded hand, before her gaze darted back to him again, her breathing rising to an uncontrollable rate. Alarm bells began to ring in her ears.

"I think you know," he purred to her huskily, a dire fulfilment permeating his voice as he rubbed his nose over hers gently. He then lowered his head to her neck and tenderly kissed her throat.

Padmé exhaled in horror, the combination of this certainty - of knowing what had happened between them - now sinking in, and combining with the terrible, chilly sensation of his lips against her throat, caressing her with a shameless devotion. She closed her eyes, her mind frantic to flee the situation whilst her skin welcomed his ardent touch, creating a terrible conflict within her…

"Padmé, you like it really…"

Memories of what had so recently transpired between them rushed back to taunt her, memories that now seemed to be all but confirmed as factual; with a moan, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to force back the conception of being drawn to him by his hypnotic voice, of being coaxed into believing that she wanted him, of being made to believe that he was someone else…made to believe that he was Anakin; the thought of knowing that she had already played her body against his made her desperate to get away, and made her feel truly sick.

She prepared to raise her hands to push him off, but he seemed to foresee her attempt, and lowered both his hands to pin hers against the wall. She whimpered in fear as he continued to pepper her neck with kisses, tender yet aggressive. Blood trickled down the walls below from his bleeding grip on her wrist, running around the cracks and ridges of the tiles before seeping down to the shower floor. Padmé felt the heat of him strong against her, his powerfully built pectorals rubbing against her breast, the pulsation of his heart pounding into her torso. She wriggled about beneath him, trying to gain some form of freedom, but her movements only brought her into closer, unwanted contact with the Count.

He groaned into her, pulling his mouth away from her neck and looking deeply into her eyes, studying the fear and the vile stimulation that he'd incited within her.

She swallowed, looking at him with silent entreaties of mercy; "Stop it, please," she gasped, trying once more to writhe out of his hold, but again only managing to chafe her body against his. His eyes were so intense and compelling, almost relaxing, the calm of the storm that he was; he was making no attempt to control her, and no move to utilise his crude Force abilities to lure her to him under a false sense of security. He wanted to play the game the hard way.

Padmé panted in panic, looking back down to her naked shoulder where his hand had been, now painted with scarlet blood; it seemed to her to be some kind of crude mark left by him, representing his ownership of her.

"Blood isn't becoming, is it?" he whispered calmly, noticing her study her blood-spattered shoulder; "Shall we wash it off?"

She turned back to him, swallowing down the ever-growing lump of unease in her throat, whilst, without breaking their stare, the Count willed the tap on the wall to turn, sending a sudden cold shower of water over them both. The coldness of it was a shock to Padm's system, and made her jump sharply, whilst some of the blood on her skin began to gradually trickle away. Her hair began to hang in wet clumps over her head, and, quickly, both her and Dooku's clothes became waterlogged, tightening to the forms of their bodies.

"Let me go!!" she asked desperately, gathering her strengths and writhing with every ounce of energy that she still possessed. Her struggle this time proved quite a test for the Count to control; he knitted his teeth together, clutching her wrists so tight that it pained the young Nubian, before pushing her fast against the wall, his muscles tensing as he withstood her efforts; "Calm down!" he barked. She didn't; she only became more agitated, wriggling all over the place, whimpering at the futility of her exertions, so fraught was she to be free. Her feet couldn't find ground on the ever-more slippery shower base, and she began to become only the more hysterical… She soon reached such a level of desperation, in fact, that she couldn't take it anymore; and desperate times called for desperate measures; "Get OFF me!" she cried, hammering one of her knees up rapidly into Serenn's crotch.

Serenn barked in pain, doubling over before her; "_Shit_!" he yelled, his eyes growing livid as he spun back onto Padmé, managing to keep at least one firm clasp on her wrist. She tried to pull free whilst he was down, but even a knock in the groin hadn't seemed to be enough to faze him and give her the chance to escape. With a wrathful yell, he straightened up and pushed her hard into the wall once more; she cried as her head smacked in reflex against the solid tiles, stunning her once again and making her feel increasingly dizzy. With her energies all but depleted from her last struggle, she could put up a resistance no longer. He leant remorselessly into her, driving her tight into the wall, and - pinning her arms down by her sides again - lunged at her shoulder with his mouth, kissing her smooth skin fiercely with savage nips and bites.

She cried, sliding down a little against the shiny, frictionless tiles as the pressure bore down on her. The water continued to lash about them, running down both her head and his, and tunnelling through their damp, hanging locks of hair. "Stop it!" she shrieked, trying to bring her hands up off the wall to resist him, "You're hurting me!!" She didn't understand what ignited such ferocity in him, such animalistic lust… Serenn seemed to be enthused by the need to possess her; he had done all in his power to make her his, and was fully aware that he had succeeded in his quest. It was as if he, like Anakin, struggled with overwhelming inner demons…

Anakin…

As Dooku's lips burned into her, memories of Anakin suddenly came flooding back to Padmé…the most terrifying memories:

'You're not all powerful, Ani.'

'Well, I should be! Some day I will be. I will be the most powerful Jedi ever! I promise you. I will even learn to stop people from dying!'

From that upsetting day…

'I killed them… I killed them all! They're dead, every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children, too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!'

Why was she even thinking about Anakin now? What had Anakin to do with Serenn? Were their inner struggles the same? Was Anakin becoming a reflection of the Count, or vice versa?

No, surely not…

"_Argh_!" she cried out, feeling Serenn's teeth bite hard into her shoulder, his internal struggles being ruthlessly taken out on her; she felt her skin become tender and sore, until she knew that it had broken all together. Having finished there, the Count worked on down her shoulder, his kisses becoming ever the more impassioned and vehement, filled with such a mad heat that Padmé feared they might sear her.

"Why are you doing this?" she wailed, her bursting tears merging ineffectively with the thundering shower about them; his eyes were terrifying, holding the same overwhelming mixture of love, lust and possession that had been present from the moment he had made his first unholy move on her chastity.

Dooku subsequently pulled up from Padm's skin and studied her face again, seeing the tears begin to fall from her eyes, and noticing how she flinched in pain as the cold water ruthlessly invaded the broken skin on her shoulder. Recovering his breath, he looked hard at his handiwork, seeing blood begin to emerge from the wound he had wrought, and Padmé could only watch in horror as he lowered his head back to her skin, tugging the rim of her dress down further from her wound, before he captured the first bead of blood to trickle from the lesion on his tongue. She whimpered helplessly, turning away in shock as he ran his tongue back up to her wound, over her skin, consuming her blood in one feral motion.

"Dooku, _please_!" she screamed.

He kissed her wound fervently as he reached it, before slowly drawing his lips away. Padmé herself took deep breaths now, her chest rising and falling against his. Warily, she turned back to face him, only to be swiftly devoured by him in another unanticipated kiss, his tongue forcing her lips apart and devouring her. She could taste the salty remnants of her own blood in his mouth, and flinched in disgust, moaning as she tried to pry her mouth from his.

He released her arms, sliding his hands onto her waist, knowing that he was now in complete control. Padmé swiftly raised her hands to clutch at his sodden, black tunic, trying to stifle her groan of irrepressible arousal as he continued to sensually plague her mouth, his hands rubbing her hips gently in an affectionate and loving motion. He returned her groan, becoming equally stimulated. Then, suddenly, Padmé gasped, realising that things had gone too far, knowing that it wasn't Serenn's 'sabre hilt pressing into her thigh. With as much will as she could muster, she gently pushed him away from her, placing her hands flat out on his chest, and urging him to back off in as agreeable a way as possible. He steadily drew his mouth from hers, breathing onto her with a burning exhilaration, though was suddenly somewhat subdued, as though some of Padm's anxiety had rubbed off on him.

The shower continued to flow, the water pattering about them as it burst forth from the nozzle above. They looked at each other hard in the ensuing silence, their eyes searching the other's.

"Enough, Serenn…" Padmé uttered quietly, giving him an earnest look.

He swallowed, inhaling deeply, his eyes telling that he had calmed a little – the mere fact that she was calling him by his first name meant something to him, for she had never endeavoured to use it before – and for that one moment, something passed between them – Padmé didn't know what it was, but they had, for the first time, an understanding; it was strange, and Padmé couldn't explain it.

Serenn raised his hands to her shoulders and rubbed them both once gently; she closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his body still intense against her whilst relief filtered through her – she knew that she was safe.

He stared at her for a long time, a period that Padmé lost complete track of, unsure of whether it was mere seconds or several minutes; he ran his uninjured hand through the wet tresses of her hair, before he slid it over the fresh wound on her shoulder; she hissed as he aggravated the sore flesh, opening her eyes upon him once again.

She urged him to move away from her with her hands, before looking down warily, wanting to just be alone, "Serenn…please…I think you'd just better _go_," she asked him anxiously, her fears and doubts having been all but confirmed in her eyes.

They paused like that for a few more seconds, the water still rolling round them, before Dooku nodded discreetly to himself, making his decision. He stroked her uncovered, wounded shoulder one last time before turning away from her, releasing her from the trap between his body and the wall, and stepping out of the shower unit, pulling a towel into his grasp. He then threw off his shirt and rubbed himself dry all over, water flicking out from his hair and dripping down his drenched trousers to the floor. Padmé, meanwhile, exhaled heavily, her mind still throbbing from her knock against the wall. She held out her hand to turn off the tap, and realised how much she was shaking; she was in a complete state of trauma.

Quickly winding the tap off, she went on to hastily pull her dress back up over her wounded shoulder, wanting to keep herself as covered as possible, before she stared out at Serenn and watched him finish to give himself a brief dry off.

The Count turned back to her once he was both dryer and calmer, and chucked his towel to her, followed by the nightgown she'd earlier dropped onto the floor. She caught them both, and continued to stare at him warily, refusing to come out of the cubicle until he had gone. He watched her for another moment before picking up the bandage roll from the floor and wrapping it tightly about his hand; Padmé could see, now that his chest was naked, that he had several fresh wounds laced over his arms and his body, many seeming to be from lightsabre combat. Again.

"I doubt that Anakin will want you back," he went on plainly, flexing out his hand once it was swathed in the binding; "You've already been soiled…by me."

He gave her a nod of farewell, as curt as it was, before he unlocked the door and made a swift, unruffled exit; you'd think everything were normal if his trousers and boots weren't squelching with water.

Watching him go, Padmé continued to breathe hard, unable to comprehend everything that had just happened. She was even more confused as to why it had occurred.

Steadily, she stepped out of the shower, and made her way to the mirror over the bloodstained sink; she looked at her reflection in it, pulling down the material of her dress to look at her wound. As she gazed hard at the bruised and broken skin there, she bit her lip – if this was how Serenn showed his 'affection', it didn't half hurt. She ran a finger timorously over it, her breaths shuddering with melancholy, the skin stinging at the slightest pressure; she'd have to keep that covered up, or risk awkward questions from people…

Gently covering up the wound, she sank down despondently on the floor, finally knowing for sure that Serenn had certainly left his mark on her…

TBC...


	28. My Young Apprentice

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 28**

/Anakin/

Ani groaned, his eyes heavy and his head pounding; he was hung by shackles to a plain wall in a surreal place, and there was a brightness before him so white and intense that he couldn't bring himself to look at it.

/Open your eyes, Anakin/

He groaned once more, wincing at the throbbing of the wounds he'd sustained in yesterday's battle. He tried to pry open his eyes, tried to face the vivid screen…

"It's too bright," he weakly protested, tightening his eyelids shut again.

/Watch them, Anakin/

His brow creased, " 'Them'?" he murmured, forcing his head up and finding himself able to safely open his eyes - the brightness was fading, colours becoming discernible, and numb sounds now beginning to enter the bizarre scenario.

/Yes, them/

Anakin watched patiently: a Nubian veranda formed before him, the sun bright, the lake shimmering, with lush green foliage hanging over a stone plateau - it was the veranda where he and Padmé had shared their first kiss! He inhaled, a weight forming over his heart - what was he seeing?

/Watch/

Anakin did as instructed by the mysterious, bodiless voice, and watched; the vision before him cleared and focused, and now on the veranda he perceived two figures, silhouetted against the light shining from across the lake. Bird song was now also discernible in the branches of the trees, and leaves rustled in harmony with it, disturbed by a gentle breeze.

/Can you see them?/

"Yes," the Padawan nodded, monitoring the two people with care; it was a man and a woman, for certain, both of the human genus.

Soon, the vision took him in closer to the pair, and their identities became swiftly apparent: "Padmé?" he mumbled toward the woman; he just glared at the man, blood boiling - no acknowledgment of his identity was necessary.

/Watch them/

Ani didn't question the voice - he observed the two closely, seeing Padmé turn to the Count with a smile, chatting amiably to him, whilst he returned her smile. Anakin could not make out the words they uttered to each other - their conversation was blurred and echoing - but, from body language alone, he could surmise that their exchange was easy-going and lively. Anakin swallowed his envy, his sharp eyes piercing through Dooku like a knife: Why was he privy to this? What was he seeing…?

"Where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

/Watch them/

The voice was insistent, so Anakin continued to obey, and stared back at Serenn and Padmé, just in time to see _her_ - not him - put her hand over his on the stone wall. Their eyes met and they beheld one-another silently, the birds continuing to sing in their treetop dwellings.

Ani felt his brow crease ever the more deeply in confusion, and he wildly shook his head - this wasn't real, it couldn't be!

And, suddenly, the next words Padmé spoke came out crisp and clear, breaking through the resonant aural void of before; "I love you," she said.

Anakin's heart panged and his stomach wrenched, "What is this?" he growled toward the voice that played him host, "What is this foul trickery?!"

/Can't you see them, Anakin?/

"What is this?!!"

The vision before him continued, and the Count rose his hand to stroke Padm's face, a look of doting in his eyes.

"Hands off her!" Anakin found himself yelling, moved to hysteria by this incredulous scene, though it was obvious to him that the pair could neither see nor hear him.

/Is this the woman who swore she'd love you forever?/

Ani swallowed again, "This isn't real… it _can't _be real!"

/Is this the woman you've risked your career and your life to rescue?/

He shook his head, "It's not my Padmé - it's **not**!"

/Does she even want to be rescued?/

The upset Padawan drew a breath in sharply through gritted teeth, unable to break free from the prison of this apparition, unable to draw his eyes away from this most torturous scene; his heart pelted in his chest and he tightly clenched his shackled fists, "No…" he whimpered, his spirit splitting.

Padmé raised her other hand and placed it over Serenn's as it cupped her cheek, before she stepped into him and rested her head upon his chest, sliding her arms about his torso. There was something between them, a trust that Anakin had never felt fully developed between he and the Nubian senator… It made him deeply envious.

"No!" he cried, trying to break away - but even when he closed his eyes, he could still see them, "It's not true! It's not _true_!!" Hot, devastated tears rolled down his face, but were completely unable to quench his rage or distress…

/Your eyes do not deceive you/

Anakin was burning up with agony, forced to watch the unbearable scene in an act of pure cruelty, forced to see Serenn slide his hands about Padm's waist and lock his lips with hers, forced to see all the tenderness and heat in their embrace…

/She loves him/

"She wouldn't," he continued to deny, "You lie!!"

/The Force does not lie…/

Anakin heaved great, distraught breaths, his face a picture of fury, jealousy and heartbreak, " 'The Force'?"

/It shows many things… the future, the past…the truth/

"It's an illusion!!"

/Illusion often becomes reality/

He shook his head, "No…"

/What of the dreams of your mother?/

Skywalker swallowed hesitantly, "It…wasn't like this…"

The voice become derisive in tone, and chuckled at him and his naivety; /It's too late Anakin - Padmé loves Tyranus now/

" 'Tyranus'?" he stuttered.

/Oh, didn't you know? 'Tyranus' - or 'Count Dooku', as you know him - is the second Sith Lord/

"What?" he cried, "But Padmé, she said -"

/'A Sith Lord controls the Senate'? Yes. But she doesn't know that a Sith Lord also controls the Separatists!/

Ani tried to take all of this in, tried to make sense of it all, whilst Padmé and Serenn, on the veranda before him, broke their embrace and stared peacefully across the idealistic vista together.

/Oh, don't worry, Anakin - the Sith Master is only using Tyranus, just as the Jedi are only using you…/

"Why are you telling me this?"

/I think I can help you, Anakin… Give you revenge on Tyranus, give you back the woman who betrayed you, to do with as you will… give you the freedom and respect that the Jedi will never let you have and let you achieve your true potential/

Anakin's gaze hardened on Dooku, his hatred of the man consuming him.

/You are in trouble with the Jedi - they may have to abandon you, and your master will in turn have to abandon you, too…/

"He's never helped me, anyway…" Ani growled.

/Let me show you the true nature of the Force - let me make you the greatest warrior ever!/

He swallowed once more, uncertain, his eyes still fixed on Serenn, unable to even behold Padmé, it shattered his heart so…

/You deserve the best, Anakin. Come to me and let me teach you everything/

"Who are you?" the Padawan whispered warily.

/You know who I am, my boy/

He paused, brow twitching, "Your excellency…?"

/Yes. Trust me, my friend - let me help you/

"I don't understand… how can you train me? How could you? You're no Jedi…"

/No. I'm not. Now think about it/

Anakin stared into space, his eyes drawing unavoidably back onto Padmé once more as she buried her head into Serenn's chest; he clutched her hand in his, running his other through the dark tresses of her hair.

"The Sith Master," he growled.

/You know me, Anakin… am I really the inhuman monster the Jedi make you believe a Sith Lord is?/

"No, excellency… you've been good to me."

/Then don't hold it against me - perhaps it is the Jedi who are wrong…?/

Ani inhaled profoundly, "What do you want me to do?"

/Come to me, and I will explain all…/

Anakin nodded - his mother, his potential, his love… all had been destroyed, restrained or lost because of the Jedi. The Chancellor had always been good to him, and to now find that he was the Sith Master did not seem to shock him as much as he would have expected - it only proved the genius of the man and the ineptitude of the Jedi. Perhaps this was the right thing to do? Perhaps he had finally found his destiny?

_'This path has been placed before you. The choice to take it is yours alone.'_

"I will come."

There was a flash, and, before Anakin knew it, he was awake, laid back on a cot in some part of a Republic Cruiser. He could hear the distant rumbling of the hyper drive and knew in his gut that he was on his way back to Coruscant.

His mind was buzzing, filled with a fuzzy mess that he didn't have time to organise as, appearing in the doorway of the chamber like a thunderous storm, came his master, Obi-Wan. He looked up to the Jedi and saw the hardest, most irate look on his face, one of the likes he'd never seen formed on Kenobi's visage before.

Obi folded his arms, and growled edgily, "You're in trouble this time, Anakin - I'm very disappointed in you."

-----

Serenn woke with an equal start, bolting upright and inhaling such a mass of air that he thought his lungs might burst. Reality returning, he let his head fall into his hands and threw his duvet off him, leaning over the edge of the bed; his body was buzzing with a combination of confusion and exhilaration, the vision having seemed like an idealistic dream. But if it seemed too good, and too absurd to be true, then it more than likely was. And he knew that it hadn't turned up be sheer accident…

/Master/

He closed his eyes, rallying his strengths and searching for Sidious' telepathic signature; he could discern the Sith Master's handiwork from miles off, and only Sidious could be so cruel and clever to conceive something of the likes of that hallucination…

/Tyranus…?/

The reply was distant; they were too far from each other, but it would, even so, suffice for a brief interview.

/What was that?/

/The loss of Anakin/

/_He _witnessed it?/

/You all did…/

/All?/ Serenn frowned, his brow furrowing; he felt sweat roll down his forehead as he slowly came back to dull reality.

/Yes - everyone in your 'triangle'/

/So Padmé too?/

/Yes/

He sighed - he wasn't sure what he was feeling inside, nor was he now sure about the ambitions of the Sith Master. Sidious was growing increasingly more powerful, a man of an astounding, almost preposterous genius, the ultimate puppet master. He was playing all three of them on his game board for some reason or other…

/I thought you wanted me to keep drawing Anakin in? To keep Padmé, and drive him further from the road that the Jedi have set for him?/

/Oh, I know what I'm doing, Tyranus - don't let yourself lose focus. Keep on target/

The Count eventually made an uncertain nod, before he finally transmitted his response; /Yes, my master…/

-----

Padmé woke up crying, the shock of the vision was so great. She clutched her duvet tight to herself, curling into a protective ball; her pillow was sodden with tears. Yesterday, she'd almost succumbed to Serenn's carnal abuses again, and that was traumatising enough, but to then dream about _loving_ him…? What twisted cruelty was this? Why was she being tortured so? Her life had become almost unbearable…

There was a knock...

She inhaled, wiping her eyes, and turned to look at the door; it could only be one person…

"Padmé, I know you're in there…"

It was Serenn, her intuition had been correct. She said nothing, and only coiled herself tighter into her duvet - she didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not him…

"Open the door or I'll open it myself," he went on from the other side.

_'Oh, go away'_ she cursed silently, glaring toward the source of his voice.

There was a brief pause before the door bleeped, unlocked by the Count's Force-enhanced fiddling, and he then paced in; "Don't tell me to go away," he said whilst the door hissed shut behind him.

Padmé took a deep breath, sitting up and pulling her knees into her chest, keeping the blanket tight around her, "Don't you have any respect for my privacy?" she asked.

He seemed to ignore her and paced round the far side of her bed, studying her visage carefully, "Why are you crying?" he asked, straddling a chair by her bedside.

"Privacy," she repeated, ignoring him, "What part didn't you understand?"

His gaze tightened, "I dreamt about you last night," he whispered.

Padmé looked taken aback, and she drew away from him slightly, "You did?"

"And you dreamt about me," he added.

Her brow furrowed, "How did you know?"

He glanced down briefly, "I… just know." He looked a little numb himself, a shadow of the aggressor from last night; "Please… don't take it to heart."

She gave him the most incredulous stare possible, " _'Don't take it to heart'_?" she scoffed, "After everything you've done, you tell me not to take a _dream _to heart!"

He clasped the back of the chair before him, staring silently at his hands.

"You haven't told me not to take your kisses to heart, or your - your-"

He nodded, the word on his mind, though he was unable to speak it…

To Padmé, it all still seemed so surreal - how it had happened, and who with, and how, even after all that, she was still sat talking to the perpetrator in what could be considered a relatively composed way. Worse of all was the fact that he was still a free man and that no one but her knew of it all… with the possible exception of Anakin.

The Count studied the rivets on his fingers, grooves telling of his age and vague stories of his life, "I take no pleasure in… 'assaulting' women…" he said.

"Oh, you do it often?" Padmé snapped.

He rose to his feet, shaking his head furiously, "Don't go sarcastic on me!" he ordered, his eyes taking on their livid hue, "I did what I had to do."

"Oh, for 'king and planet', or your equivalent?"

"Padmé, SHUT UP!!" he thundered, slamming a fist onto the unit by her bedside, causing her to almost leap out of her skin. She swallowed, looking hard into his eyes - there was a flicker of something there, a crack in the outer framework, a glimmer of something like…guilt?

He turned away, pacing to her apartment's windows, where he stood rubbing his eyes and massaging his temples.

"Why have you come?" she asked him quietly.

He placed his hands onto his hips and seemed to stare at his feet for a long time; "To…apologise," he eventually replied, his voice breaking.

She scoffed again, feeling such a rage toward him that she could barely contain it; "You naïve bastard," she snarled, "You think 'sorry' will help heal my scars?"

He turned back to her, glaring, though the curse was thoroughly justified.

"You terrified me last night…and you hurt me," she went on, "I don't understand you - not at all."

He shook his head to himself, pacing sombrely around the edge of the room, "I'm sorry… I wasn't in a good humour yesterday. I never intended to take it out on you…" He paused, finally raising his gaze to meet hers head-on, "Is your shoulder bad?"

She frowned uncertainly, giving her wound a protective rub, "What do you care, you animal? I should've kicked you harder between the legs…"

"It hurt quite enough, thank you."

"You've hurt me enough. I hate you."

He blinked, "That's justified…"

"Why?" she cried, "Tell me why! Why are you doing all these things to me? How can you live with yourself, committing crimes so sickening, then acting as if nothing has happened every morning after?"

He took his time to reply again, the silence heavy as he mustered a response, "I… have my reasons…"

Such a plain answer made Padmé feel only the more devastated, "Just 'reasons'?" she trembled.

He said nothing.

Padmé shook her head, "Then you truly are evil," she hissed.

Dooku was taken aback, the words stinging him like a fatal poison: _'Then you truly are evil'_

"No", he sighed, as much to himself than to anyone else, "No, I'm not evil… I'm not."

His eyes flashed back onto Padmé and she gasped, having seen that look before…

_ "They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals… I hate them" _

_"To be angry is to be human" _

She shook her head.

_"To be angry is to be human" _

Then she felt the following words come to her as if from Serenn:

_ "I'm a Jedi… I know I'm better than this" _

This reworking of Anakin's words in Serenn's tone disturbed her, yet intrigued her; "What?" she whispered to herself, inwardly frowning.

The Count's brow creased, for he heard none of the echoes that resounded through Padm's mind; "I'm sorry?" he asked, stepping slowly back toward her.

She watched him carefully as he drew closer, still seeing Anakin in her mind's eye, recalling his troubled manner and dark eyes that eve on Tatooine… yet she could only hear his words in Dooku's voice.

_ "I'm a Jedi - I know I'm better than this" _

Serenn sat by her, trying to read her expression, trying to see her thoughts. Padm's eyes jumped about restlessly, searching for some focus in both her sight and mind, breaths quickening, whilst Dooku tipped her head up with his finger and peered deep down through her pupils, "Talk to me, Padm" he whispered.

She stared at him again:

_ "I'm a Jedi" _

Anakin's face seemed to superimpose itself on Serenn's, his voice warping to-and-fro with the Count's, and she clutched her head in her hands, trying to shake the vision free…

_ "I know I'm better than this" _

"No! Stop it!" she moaned, closing her eyes fast.

"Padm" Dooku murmured, placing his hands onto her shoulders carefully.

"No!!"

"I'm sorry, Padmé… I'm sorry, you hear?" he said, giving her a light shake, trying to bring her back.

"Stop it…" she continued, still locked within her distorted thoughts, not hearing a word the Count said.

"I know I'm better than this!" Dooku added.

Padm's eyes shot open. The moment froze.

Her mind had suddenly silenced, and she turned to look at him, studying his face intricately and noting the torment within his eyes, and the struggle within.

"I know I'm better than this," he repeated, stroking her face gently before he cautiously leant over and kissed her forehead; "Please forgive me… I can't help myself. I'm beyond that now."

Padmé rose her hands to his chest, struck by the familiar feeling of the scenario, yet also rattled by it; "Please, go," she asked him solemnly, pushing him a short distance from her, before turning away.

The Count nodded slowly, rising to his feet and drawing a hand down her arm, before he indeed turned and left.

The door shut behind him.

Padmé sighed, hugging her duvet to herself once more; she was so confused.

----

_I saw the cracks in your outer framework_

_They were there long ago _

Serenn withdrew to his quarters, putting a hand to his bemused head, and walked across the room to the doors that led outside onto the veranda. Pacing out onto it, the rushing of a nearby waterfall loud in his ears, he halted by its edge, leaning onto the stone wall, and waited to see the sun rise over the horizon…

_But now you've allowed these hairline fractures_

_To irrepressibly grow _

He put his head into his hand, a tear running down his face; "Help me, Qui-Gon," he murmured, "Please help me…"

**TBC…**

**Author's Notes: ** Gee, now where do I go? I know where I _want _the story to go, it's just finding the best route there, if you get me. Hope you're still enjoying the ride, and, with a bit of luck, I'll get the story sorted and updated very soon! Feel free to contact me in the mean time, and thanks to all the peeps who have prodded me in the back to get a move on so far - I need it!


	29. A Sense of Guilt

**Author's Notes: **I'm gutted. Kalina Lea has abandoned her top Snape/Hermione fanfic, "Desperate Measures". Now, don't get me wrong, I respect her decision and understand that she has her reasons for abandoning it - I've no problem with that - it's the fact that there's an insatiable hunger left in my chest, begging for the story's resolution, and I know that now it's never going to be sated (wow, did that sound good to anyone else? Heh). All that has made me realise, in a sense, how you guys must feel if I never update, so I want to apologise again for my slackness and say that, in earnest, I want to finish this fanfic before "Revenge of the Sith" is released next May, and I promise never to abandon it. I really value everyone who's taken the time to read and review my fanfic, especially considering its crazy and more-than-controversial content, and I think that you guys deserve better than an author's wish to suddenly give up on it all. I hope that makes sense.

And now, back to the show… I'm not too happy with this chapter – it doesn't seem to go anywhere – but, hey, if I need to, I'll remedy that later.

**SilverWolf47: **I like Dooku evil, too, but as the story develops, so will he.

**Audreidi:** I find that people like dark and twisted things – it's just the human tendency to be morbidly curious, I guess. Thanks for your support!

**Aleviel:** You love me? Steady on… LOL

**Dark Poetic: **No, it's not dead yet… I don't want it to die, I want it to carry on and end properly. Here's hoping I can do just that! My deadline is May the whatever next year, when SW:RotS comes out!

**PadawanMage:** I love your reviews – they're so long and full and they make me think twice, even thrice about what I've written. It'll take me too long to respond to each and every one of your points (plus, it could spoil the rest of the story), but I'll pick out a few to respond to:

I'm surprised it took you this long to hate Dooku – he's been a real bastard so far, though that cumulates to its peak in Ch.27. If Anakin hadn't turned up, though, things would have been alot different in that part. I've got some surprises in store for him, yet, though, and there's one scene I can't wait to write, which'll really make one question his character…

The Sith are 'Dark Jedi', though I don't think they completely embody evil, so Dooku could join Sidious, think he was doing the right thing, yet still not call himself full-bodied 'evil'. The Dark side has its uses without being always iniquitous, though I know that's its outward guise. I think that the fact Padmé called him 'evil' helped bring the thoughts that his earlier 'conversation' with Qui-Gon started, to the surface, and something's finally penetrated his thick skull.

And I'm actually sleeping fine at night, though my dreams lately have been really bizarre. None of them SW related, though.

**BoromirDefender:** Thank you for your encouraging reviews. I think you've hit the nail concerning Anakin and Dooku – they're both on the edge of the knife now, and each looks set to topple one way or the other. Things are gonna start changing now.

**Ms8309:** Indeed.

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 29**

The Battle of Sullust raged on for several days, even though the Republic's goal - to retrieve the pair of Jedi held captive against their will - was accomplished within its early hours. The planet was devastated; many towns were lost, as the delicate chambers and tunnels were ruptured and broken, and even more lives were destroyed than originally anticipated. The separatists were the ones to back down; they just could not compete against the Republic's arsenal, and found themselves all but cornered down beneath the planet's surface below. So the Republic had scored its first great victory against the Confederacy's might. This had still, however, come with its costs - it was too late for the Republic to realise that it had all been a diversion, and that, in the mean time, the Naboo had given in to the threats of Count Dooku and joined his movement; the Battle of Sullust had been won, but at the price of the great strategic hold of Naboo.

Back in the Core Worlds, word had it that the Chancellor was elated by his victory, but equally devastated by the loss of his home planet to the wily Count. The morale of the Republican electorate was at least boosted, but still there were many factions hovering on the boundary between the democracy and its tearaway group of secessionists. All eyes now looked toward the case of the renegade Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, who had caused this entire rumpus to escalate in the first place. Though it was for the courts of law within the Republic and the circle of the Jedi Council itself to decide his fate, it was with Obi-Wan Kenobi that the boy had had to deal first, days earlier, aboard a Republic cruiser…

After his capture in Theed, Anakin had been taken, unconscious, to the Palace cells, before the Republic were alerted to his location and the circumstances of his capture. From there, the boy had been collected by one of the few remaining cruisers not sent on the Sullust escapade, at the complete discretion of the Trade Federation, which it soon became apparent, was keeping watch of the planet Naboo from very nearby. Obi-Wan, returning from Sullust, had managed to gain passage on said cruiser in order to be one of the first to see his apprentice.

Finally, stirring within the bowels of the cruiser, Anakin had awoken to the sound of a rumbling hyperdrive generator and was very much aware of the presence of an irate mentor…

"You're in trouble this time, Anakin," came Obi-Wan's voice, "I'm very disappointed in you."

Anakin slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, realising then, suddenly, how much his head was pounding, and how sore his throat felt. He cringed, putting his metal hand to his face, which - because of the sheer coldness of the metallic arm - cleared his mind with a start.

And it then all came rushing back: the fight…

_"__You__'__d better have not laid a finger on her__"_

The pain…

_"You can__'__t undo what has been done, boy."_

The agony…

_"You wanted Padmé to be yours, didn__'__t you? Yours and yours alone!"_

Padmé!

"Why am I here?" Anakin yelled, leaping onto his feet and attempting to rush for the door. If he hadn't have swayed first and collapsed against the wall, then Obi-Wan would have stopped him, anyway; he blinked back the white dots littering his vision and tried to fight the feeling of his head swimming with water whilst Kenobi muttered, "You've been very naughty, to put it bluntly, my _Padawan_."

Anakin slid to the floor, too nauseous to fight his disorientation as his recent concussion made its presence felt, and listened to Obi reluctantly.

"You went - not just against _my _word - but against the word of your elders, against the Jedi Code and, if that wasn't enough, the law, as well!"

Obi-Wan sounded different - he had never resorted to such black, bitter humour before; his voice was cold, his eyes empty - he was a man beyond grief and filled with disillusionment. He had had enough. Anakin was too preoccupied by his own personal issues to bother registering any of this, however.

"What in the Force's name were you thinking?" Obi hissed, "You killed a high-ranking politician!"

"Someone had to do something…" he murmured in return.

"Murder isn't the answer!"

Anakin shot his mentor a vicious glare, "Isn't it? A bit rich coming from the man who killed the first Sith apprentice!"

"That was different, Anakin," Obi groaned, "How exactly did San Hill provoke you?"

"By existing…" he sneered.

"Oh, well that's just dandy!" Kenobi retorted, going into a mock act, " _'Oh, this man offends me, so, hmm, what shall I do about it? I know - I'll kill him!'_ "

Anakin cocked an eyebrow, infuriating Obi more by his sheer mask of indifference; "You just don't care, do you?" Kenobi sighed, "You don't damn well care!"

"I care about Padmé!" Anakin snarled, "And I nearly had her back until you bunch of morons took me away again!"

"Well, thank you for the respect, Mister Skywalker - if we'd left you back there, seeing as you were flat out cold, I think Dooku might have killed you. And right now, I wouldn't have blamed him!"

"Thanks for your support, _master_!"

"DON'T MENTION IT!"

They were panting at each other like ravenous nexus - it was an argument unlike any they'd had before.

"You have serious issues, young man," Obi said, pointing a finger at his protégé, "Padmé has made her decisions and you have to respect them!"

_"What makes you believe that she didn__'__t give herself to me freely?__"_

"No! He's been making her do things! You don't understand what he's done to her! You -"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Anakin, can't you see what _he's _doing to _you_? And I presume this 'he' is, once again, Count Dooku, seeing as you speak about him with such disdain! He's a manipulator - he's probably flat-out lying to you and laughing at your sodding gullibility right now! He's not stupid, you know - he knows what buttons to press!"

"He's not lying! And you don't have a clue what you're talking about!"

"Don't I?"

"No! He's forced her into signing his treaties, and you shrug it off, he's coerced her into believing his lies, and you shrug it off. He's -"

"Enough!"

"He's gods-damned RAPED her and you don't care!!" Anakin bellowed, eyes lost to a maelstrom of rage.

"SHUT UP!!"

Obi-Wan blinked at Ani, realising, all of a sudden, that the boy had at some point got to his feet and was now stood mere centimetres away from him. He took a deep breath, shaking his head and stepping away from him, "Enough," he repeated, "I've heard enough. You're obsessed with this woman, with this girl who's turned tail, and it would seem that you'd believe anything, or try and make _me _believe anything, in order to support your childish possessive need to have her back!"

Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing; "Lying? You think I'd make that up?"

"I do! I think you've grown so desperate that nothing is beyond you, now! You're not the boy Qui-Gon rescued from Tatooine any more - you're a madman, and I just can't control you any more."

"I've grown up."

"You've grown _down_, if anything," Obi reproved, before his eyes suddenly caught the glint of familiar, cylindrical metal hanging from Anakin's belt; talk about adding insult to injury…

"And you took Qui-Gon's light sabre into battle with you…" he gasped; tears filled his eyes, but they were of pure rage this time, "You arrogant idiot! You cur, you vagrant, you -"

"Go on, say it! You _slave_! Say it!" Anakin egged him on, tossing the sabre in question uncaringly back at him, "Because that's what I am! And you know it! I'm scum, I'm from the bowels of the hierarchy, I grew up alongside beggars and thieves, and, you know what, I'm _proud _of it!" He kicked the wall, "Well, sod you, then! You and your stupid Order! There are better things out there and I'm damn-well going out to find them! My mother didn't die to see me become a weak, simpering fool of a 'Jedi' - she died to give me something better, and I'm gonna get it! You wait and see! And then, I'll come back and show you." He pointed at his mentor this time, his powerful eyes looking down the length of his arm into Kenobi's gaze; "You wait," he muttered, barely able to contain his rage, "I am just a learner now, but when I come back… when I come back, I'll be a Master, and you will beg for mercy before the end!"

Obi clutched Qui-Gon's sabre to him, held it close as he tried to draw comfort from it and the memory it held - this couldn't be the end. He'd just lost his temper and now it was all over. He'd failed his master, he'd broken his word… but had he had any other choice?

"Get out," Anakin growled, "Go away! I never want to see you again!"

Kenobi backed out, his eyes set hard on the boy; he knew there would be other encounters, he could feel it in his soul; "If that is what you wish."

"Get out!!"

------

Padmé ran her hand over the table, ignoring her breakfast completely. Sat before her was the plain piece of parchment uniting the Naboo with Count Dooku and his movement - it was now all set in stone. She sighed, giving up on her food and sitting back. Through the windows she could see the sun peeking its glorious face over the horizon and filling the pale blue sky with its warm rays.

She had been up at the crack of dawn, again - sleep hadn't come easily since her recent absurd dream, but that didn't worry her; she'd had stints of insomnia before - it's what you excepted with the strains of being a politician - it was the bizarre fact that she hadn't come across her nemesis again since that made her uneasy. She'd expected to see him at some point during the past few days - he usually managed to construe a meeting between them whether she liked it or not - but alas, it hadn't been so. It was weird; his punctuality was undisputable, so she couldn't discount his absence for any selfish wish to rest, or something of the likes. All she'd found, a couple of days after their frightful convergence a few nights prior, had been the treaty dutifully signed by the Queen, with no words to her about it or anything. She'd since managed to strike up an audience with the Queen, who had explained the reasoning for her actions, with which Padmé sympathised fully and tried, in return and to some extent, to explain the rationale behind her own conduct.

The fact remained that there was still no sign of Serenn; his presence was felt, but his person could not be found.

News filtered through of the Republican victories at Sullust. It was with baited breath that the galaxy now looked to the judgment of Anakin, who was detained on Coruscant and held at the Republic's mercy. To think that he'd been so close, that he'd reached Naboo, yet she'd never got to see him, hurt Padmé greatly, but not so much as the guilt she felt of that everything he was going through was because of her.

As she left the breakfast table, she couldn't help but feel that something had changed, though whether it was for better or for worse, she couldn't tell. She couldn't even identify what this 'something' was.

There were now Battle Droids stationed everywhere in Theed - it was all well and good that the Naboo had signed to the Confederacy, but it still didn't make the trust between the two parties any better. The Trade Federation had set up camp in the capital and sent envoys all over the planet. Padmé hated looking at these ghosts of the past, but she didn't exactly have a choice. Now she was wondering exactly what the separatists next move was going to be, and was praying that she didn't have to be a part of it. She hadn't forgotten what the Count had said, some time back now:

_"I need to get back to Naboo!"_

_"Not yet, you don't. It's not safe for me to release you there."_

_"Not safe? It's my home!"_

_"And currently part of the Republic… trust me."_

Perhaps she could just stay on Naboo now, seeing as it was no longer Republican, whilst the rest of the Confederacy played the war game?

She walked out of the palace and into the grounds. A couple of Gungans gave her stunted greetings as they passed her in the gardens, but it was otherwise quiet. She began to feel rather nauseous. It wasn't because of Dooku, though all that still lingered in the back of her mind, promising never to go away, but because of Anakin - she was nervous for him. What was going to happen to him? The tension building up around his case was unlike anything she'd experienced before. But with all the war going on, she guessed that people were just relived to have an opportunity to blame someone for what was happening, be that blame worthy or no. In the case of Anakin, she had to admit it was worthy - he'd killed San Hill, if what she'd heard was true, and murder was inexcusable in all of its guises.

She thought that he just needed help, and she wanted to give it to him. She'd been there when he'd killed those Tusken Raiders…

She swallowed suddenly, trying to straighten out her thoughts - Anakin had taken _lives_, and all she was thinking about was how bad it was for _him_. She felt even worse because of that.

Looking up, she saw the domed structures of the funeral pyres loom in the distance, on the edge of the palace's vicinity. That was where she'd watched Qui-Gon's body burn, where Obi-Wan had taken Anakin as his apprentice, where Palpatine had stood in a feigned grief…

She closed her eyes, still unable to fully understand how a man like Palpatine could be the Sith Master. How exactly did Dooku know about that, anyway? And why hadn't she run around shouting out who he was at the top of her lungs already? What was holding her back?

Then suddenly, she glanced the back of someone stood solemnly by the central funeral dome, head hung in what she took to be grief; she frowned and, her feet doing as they pleased, headed in its direction.

The sky was becoming overcast as she drew closer to the funeral pyres, and the wind was getting up. She held her arms tightly about herself and ascended the stone steps toward the foreboding structures of death. Her footfalls echoed eerily against the flagstones and, as she rounded the corner of the first building, she saw him, just stood there, his cloak fluttering in the breeze.

"Why have you come?" Dooku murmured. He didn't turn to look at her, simply remained where he was, staring out across the empty horizon.

Padmé frowned, walking toward the left; "You should be grateful I've come, at all."

She thought she heard him scoff gently, but she couldn't be sure now that the wind rang in her ears.

"True enough," he mumbled.

She could tell that he was not going to make any effort in turning to her, so she plucked up the courage to walk to him, instead. She stared at him from his side and waited for him to look at her.

"Qui-Gon was burned here," he said, "Do you remember?"

"Of course I do…" she muttered.

"He was the best thing that ever came out of my life."

"I don't doubt you."

"What would he say to me now?"

"I'm quite sure he'd be quite frank."

Serenn almost permitted himself to laugh; "Yes… how true. You must have grasped his character well in what little time you knew him."

She shifted restlessly; "What are you getting at?" she asked.

He finally looked at her, "I don't know."

"Where have you been?"

"Should that concern you?"

"No… I'm merely curious as to why you disappeared for several days on end, and let me have no part whatsoever in the signing of the contract between my planet and the Confederacy, though you have, as of late, consistently reminded me of the importance of my presence in these matters."

He looked mildly impressed with her short speech; "But of course." He began to walk away, hands clasping behind his back, "I should have given you more access."

"So why didn't you? You're not helping yourself by adding this to your injustices of me." She fell into step beside him and fixed him with a dark glare.

"I felt," he said, "That it would have been _more _of an injustice for me to force you to work in my presence again."

She frowned, taken aback, "What?" she whispered.

"You heard," he stated shortly. He halted in his tracks and looked down at her, "You felt that this would not have been so?"

She glared at him, but this forced nothing from his countenance other than an infuriatingly blithe smile.

"Young Anakin," he went on, once again pacing away, "Is to be put on trial today. Did you know that?"

Padmé didn't follow him by foot, but her eyes never left him; "He is?" she asked quietly, "So soon?"

"The sooner the better, no?" he rejoined.

"I'm not so sure. We shouldn't be hasty with these things."

The amiability that had so filled his features a second ago was rapidly turning sour; "Shouldn't we?" He made a curt laugh, "My dear, he killed someone out of cold blood. Does that account for nothing to you?"

"I know that, it's just…"

"You would have made a poor Jedi, my girl," he muttered, "Your feelings are so very clouded by your emotions."

She gave him another scowl, "Meaning what?"

"Your feelings for Anakin deceive you."

"We are all deceived by the feelings we carry for the ones we love."

"Are we?"

"Yes. And if you were human, you'd realise it."

He sighed and turned away; "Oh, I am human," he said, "Frighteningly so."

--------

Anakin was tinkering about in his cell. He'd been here for several days now, trapped beneath the Republic's Courts of Law, waiting for some kind of trial to be held over him. He had grown so bored that he had asked if he could begin work on a new lightsabre. His custodians had been sceptical of this request, without a doubt, but had agreed to his wishes. Anakin had later noticed that they hadn't given him a crystal with which to complete the weapon, making it, in all respects, completely useless. It was like building a pod racer without an engine. But he went on to construct one anyway. The metal he had been presented with was rather plain and cheap, and all the components seemed to be second hand - not that that bothered him. He was too jaded to care; rather this than nothing.

The Court guards did find it odd, though, that all the boy could care about was occupying his time; it would seem that he had left his conscience, which should have been reminding him of the reason for his incarceration, somewhere else.

And it was true - Anakin really couldn't care less what happened to him now. He pretty much knew that, in a few days, or even hours, time, the 'sabre he was making now could be confiscated from him, his Padawan braid severed and his privilege as a Jedi - or at least an apprentice - stripped from him forever. Yet, even this did not perturb him.

Soon, he would be free, and then everyone who had ever wronged him would be sorry.

-------

Conscience was, meanwhile, playing heavily on Obi-Wan's mind as he sat on some steps, overshadowed by darkness, in the depths of the Jedi Temple. He felt responsible for Anakin and all he had done, though his allies kept telling him that it was not his fault. His own ghost from the past, however, insisted upon reminding him of the warning that he had long ago shouldered upon his own mentor, Master Jinn; _"The boy is dangerous - they all sense it. Why can't you?"_

"And why didn't you sense it?" he muttered, running a hand back through his hair, "_Why_?"

**TBC…**

_'It is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.'_

- **Falstaff**, "King Henry IV - Part 2", I, ii _(William Shakespeare)_


	30. The Trial of the Jedi

**Author's Notes: **Aw, nuts… I just found out from the "Episode III" preview in a recent _Star Wars_ magazine that Passel Argente's aide is **female**. That's the first edit "Eclipse" is gonna need once it's done, then. Heh. I've done a twist on a courtroom scene here, but I've no idea how they work, so I just let my imagination create this one; it _is _in another galaxy, anyway.

**Revision 16/9/04:** Palpatine's forename is now good ol' 'Cos' – PadawanMage pointed out that Finis is actually Valorum's name, and, let's be frank, I don't think they'd share the same name, unless you like huge coincidences. It could be the 'John Smith' of _Star Wars_, but, hey, I won't risk that…

I must also thank history for inspiring me in general for this part - Henry VIII and Charles II, I bow to you. :D LOL. There's nothing like the past to tell you how to work certain situations in your stories.

On a side note, I am going to university this coming Friday, the 17th September, so I may or may not be updating as quickly as I'd like. Hopefully the stimulus of doing work again will make me write faster! Heh. Anyway, stalk me at Live Journal (User: **Jurious**) or something if you wanted to keep posted. Apart from that, please enjoy the loooooooooong chapter!

**Kynstar:** _I_ wish Dooku lived next door to me… Unfortunately, he doesn't. I'm so glad you've enjoyed the rather extreme past few parts of the story, and I'm surprised that I managed to make you cry. I'm doing something right… Enjoy!

**Ms8309:** I think I've got Anakin's complete turn to the Dark side figured out, now. I just need to get it written.

**PadawanMage:** My most in-depth reviewer continues to burst the 'Submit a Review' box. Wow, that was a large one! I don't have every chapter down till, but I've got most of it planned, so hopefully I can set myself a prior-to-RotS target for completion of this story! And I've not actually got any nasty reviews or ought – which I am quite surprised about, personally. Anyway, hopefully more of your queries will be answered in the following chapter – though I bet you'll have more to ask by the end of it.

**Leela74:** Hey, don't apologise! No one _has_ to read my work – I'm just happy when you have the time! And thank you for such kind comments – I hope I can continue to entertain you with my twisted tales.

**Audreidi: **Wow, criticism! I'd like to hear who you think was out of character and why – "Eclipse" is a constant work-in-progress and I do plan to go back and revamp it all once it's done. If you can help me in any way, I'd appreciate it. I don't get much help when it comes to writing this, not having a BETA, so I turn to the reviewers when I can. Anyway, my thanks for your review and I hope you continue reading!

---

**_Brabantio_**_: Though art a villain_

**_Iago_**_: You are -- a senator_

"Othello", I, i (William Shakespeare)

---

"ECLIPSE"

**Part 30**

Everything was surreal, from the peaceful vista that greeted Padmé outside the windows of the Theed palace, to the complex situation of her 'relationship' (for want of a better word) with Count Dooku. Who, it seemed, was keeping more things from her than she thought; he was to speak against Anakin in the Republic Courts. From a distance, via hologram, but still, he was as good as there. Padmé found it ironic that he considered speaking out against Anakin in a court that was part of the institution he was trying so hard to crumble, but she didn't mention this to him. This wasn't about the war - this was about the downfall of a Jedi. It was the Order on trial, not the principle, and it only meant trouble in Padm's view.

Politics was a dangerous thing.

"How did they find you?" she settled herself with asking him as she leant in a doorway, arms folded, giving him a glare.

"Oh, they know I'm here now," Serenn shrugged as he cast his cloak about his shoulders and set the clasp in place, "It's all out about Naboo now. Unsurprisingly."

"Why can't I take part?"

"You?" he smiled, glancing at her, "Why, Padmé, would it look good for the Confederacy if, at this case, I spoke against Anakin, whilst you spoke _for_ him?"

She gave him a stinging 'Very Funny' look and glanced away with a huff.

"You're very temperamental at the moment," he growled, "What's wrong now?"

"Did I say anything?"

"Your mouth didn't," he conceded, running a hand back over his head to flatten his hair, "But your face did." His eyebrows rose briefly in gesture before he walked briskly passed her.

"You expect me to be happy here, mulling about like a lost kaadu?" she said, catching up with him.

"You have a choice in whether you 'mull about' or not. And you made the kaadu comparison, not I."

"It's been painful for me, joining this 'movement' of yours. You could at least give me something to do in it, other than rush after you like a lap dog."

"I seem to recall that you were _desperate _to come home not long ago," he sneered, "Well, you're here now. Why don't you make use of your time before we have to leave again?"

"You don't let me out of your sight! How can I?"

"I haven't even _been _here for the past few days - what was your excuse then?"

"Fear!"

"Fear?" Dooku's anger abated to a mere curiosity, "You're afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of what you can do…" she admitted, swallowing, "Though I won't let you use it against me any more."

"Then why the fear?" he pushed on.

"Because I remember. And I can't forget."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he nodded, "Of course."

"And no apology you give me will change that."

They stared at one another for a moment before he gave her a parting nod, "I have to go," he said. He began to walk away, but suddenly turned back and looked over his shoulder at her, "Are you coming or not?"

She nodded glumly, "I'll be along shortly."

He made another of his bows and continued on his way.

---

The Battle of Sullust was lost. And Boba found that he didn't care. Passel Argente had conceded defeat; he just hadn't had the tactical advantage, considering his army was positioned down on Sullust, whilst the Republic had had the free run of space, bar the few Confederacy star cruisers there - and, despite the fact that it had, when all the layers were stripped down, been nothing more than a diversion, the magistrate was still more than a little peeved. Boba had, thus, kept his distance from him.

They had fled from Sullust and were now hovering in orbit somewhere near Ord Mantell, though Boba had no idea why. He guessed that they were waiting for Dooku's next orders. And he continued to pray that he would be allowed to rejoin the Count, or at least get away from Argente.

"Poggle has contacted us," he overheard Passel tell his aide as he sat across from them, in an open doorway to the bridge, "We have several more battalions of droids now on the way."

"Good old Poggle," the aide replied, "I knew he'd waste no time in getting his foundries back up and running."

"Yes… and we're going to need as much backup as possible if the Count keeps playing his diversionary tactics."

"It worked, though, didn't it?"

"Yes… but for how long can he continue to fool the Republic in such a way?"

"If lives and planets are at stake, they will fight, regardless. You know this."

"Indeed… You are right."

Boba rolled his eyes - wars were becoming complicated. He thought a war was just about two armies and a few battles. Since when were there diversions, treaties and lulls of inactivity involved? He'd just take a gun and blow the brains out of the leader of the opposition. He rose his arm and imitated a firing gun, aiming at Argente, his aide, and several impassive Battle Droids in turn.

---

The Courts were foreboding places - they were large, dark rooms, filled with row upon row of seats along each side, with several raised platforms (not unlike those used in the Senate chambers, except they were immobile) arranged within the centre, the highest being that for the judge, the others for the accused and the so-called 'orators'.

It wasn't long until every seat, and every other plausible space in the court, was filled with people. Everyone wanted to be part of the upcoming case, everyone wanted to see what would happen to this apprenticed Jedi, one of the first in an age to go on trial in a court. Even the boundaries of Separatist and Republican had been lowered a little for the day, and word had it that Count Dooku himself was to speak on behalf of the Separatists on the matter. It was his underling who had been slaughtered, after all.

Outside of the entrance to the accuser's dock, Anakin tapped his toes idly upon the floor. He was flanked by a pair of the court guards, both of which wore the same outdated blue uniform and raised headdresses of the old senatorial guards. These sentinels were becoming more and more scarce as the new wave of scarlet-clad senatorial guards were ushered in.

There was suddenly the sound of footsteps in the hallway. With a slight crease to his brow, Anakin turned to satisfy his curiosity. Approaching him from down the corridor, flanked by a pair of his own scarlet bodyguards, came the Chancellor. The elder man's hands were clasped before him and his gaze was as benign and drained as usual.

As he came within range of Anakin, he gave him a long stare.

_/Trust Me/_

And with that, he was gone.

Anakin pondered on the words he'd heard within his head, looking at his feet for but a moment, before, his thoughts interrupted, the doors opened before him.

The first thing that hit him was the sheer noise - he'd never heard anything like it! The stands below and around were filled to bursting point with people of all ages, species and walks of life, and virtually each and every one of them were jeering, booing and hissing at him. If they'd had tomatoes handy, Anakin was sure he'd be covered in a red puree by now.

He paced out, up the narrow walkway, to his raised dock. Despite the noise and disgruntlement, Anakin couldn't find the room within himself to actually be bothered about it all, and this kind of attitude immediately put the Jedi - the chosen scapegoats of the matter - in a bad light.

High up, in the uppermost dock, a Dug, of all creatures, took its place as judge. Anakin threw it a scowl - Dugs, as he knew all too well, were usually beings of the underworlds, indigenous to the Outer Rim. Corruption was undoubtedly prevalent in the Republic if some lowlife Dug had managed to squeeze its way up the ranks of the courts and become a magistrate.

As the crowds then settled, the judge peered over the edge of his box and placed a small monocle before one of his eyes; "Let us begin," he announced in a deep monotone.

---

Padmé stood back a little, out of range of the holoprojector plate, whilst Serenn took his place directly upon it. He glanced back to her, sensing her clear discomfort; "You do not have to speak," he said.

She met his gaze, "Don't you mean, you'd rather I didn't?" she muttered sourly.

He gazed at her a while longer before, nodding, he turned back about and, with a wave of his hand, brought the opposing holo-proj' plate to life. An image of the courtroom came into focus before them; the chamber was overcrowded, filled with denizens of the capital and beyond, and the tense atmosphere, even from this far away, had no trouble in making its presence felt.

Padmé backed into the wall at the sight of it, her stomach doing a flop; "Anakin," she sighed.

Serenn heard her, but he merely glanced downward, running a finger over the deep cut still present on his palm. And then he waited.

---

"Anakin Skywalker, you have been brought before this court on charges of misconduct, including the acts of theft, damage of property and murder. Evidence pertaining to your crime has already been presented to the jury, whilst the hearing today shall aid in the determination of your fate. You will be judged upon evidence and beliefs, given by various Orators, before the jury will judge you finally in private. You may also have the opportunity to make your own plea, should you wish, and the jury may be permitted to request further evidence, orators or time, should they feel the need. Do you understand the proceedings, Mr. Skywalker?"

Anakin gave the Dug his surliest stare. He felt eyes on him from every nook and cranny of the hall, could see the likes of Mace Windu and Ki-Adi Mundi hanging on his every move and word as they stood in a raised gallery near by.

"I do," he said, loud and clear.

Everyone murmured, as he expected they would.

The Dug made a little cough, one that somehow commanded silence in the room over again; "Very well, then we shall proceed. Please may the Orators take the stands - Master Mace Windu, Supreme Chancellor Finis Palpatine and Count Serenn Dooku."

Now the court did burst out in unabashed banter. Anakin looked across to the row of raised stands, a similar height to his own, three of which were suddenly occupied by a trio of very diverse characters. Climbing into the first stand came Master Windu, making his way up from his gallery. There were two empty stands between him and the next individual, Chancellor Palpatine, who came up from another direction to take this stand. On the dais by his side, a holographic Dooku fuzzed into focus, stepping provisionally into the scenario. They were indeed the most unlikely-looking group.

Anakin looked over each; Mace had an expression grave with concern, his heavy eyes telling of his anxiety; Palpatine looked his usual, weary self, though Anakin could see beyond the guise to the genius within - and those eyes told him that, no matter what the outcome, he would be in safe hands; and Dooku - well, Anakin was puzzled by the man this time. He expected a churlish, arrogant glare from the man, but he was merely met by a stern, solemn stare. Either way, he couldn't help but think that it should be Serenn stood up here on trial, not him - he'd committed crimes just as, if not more heinous than what he'd done.

Then the thought hit Anakin suddenly of a clear absence in the court - Master Kenobi. His mind told him that he was better off without his interfering mentor there, but a very small part of him, a part almost overshadowed by the dark in his soul, piped up in protest that this was not a good sign.

"Commendation or condemnation - give your verdicts," the judge suddenly warbled, breaking Anakin's concentration. Ani saw that he was looking first to Mace.

---

Padmé had perched herself on a seat now at the back of the small room in which the holo-proj' Serenn was using was housed. She shook her head with a disapproving sigh as she watched the judge. The courts indeed did take longer to decide things than the senate - and when one witnessed the way in which they dealt with things, it was often no surprise. None of it seemed fair or logical.

Her eyes soon wondered back to the shaky hologram of Anakin; he looked different, as though his edges had been sharpened and honed. In fact, he didn't _look_ much different at all, but something made him seem that way to Padmé. She sighed and leant her head against the wall, waiting for the trial to continue as Mace took the stand…

---

"Orator One: Your name and occupation."

"Mace Windu, Jedi Master and Council Member."

"Your testimony on the defendant's behalf?"

"Guilty. Though I wish to alleviate his sentence, despite the crime's severity."

The Dug raised his eyebrow, and nearly lost his monocle; quickly shoving it back in with his foot, he stared down at Mace and said, "But sentence has not yet been passed. How can it be alleviated?"

Windu blinked slowly in return, clasping his hands at the small of his back; "I feel that there are few sentences except one with which this boy can be penalised. Knowing the severity of this sentence, I therefore ask to alleviate it, your honour, should my intuition be correct."

The Dug made a slight shrugging motion, and gestured for Windu to continue; Mace nodded obediently, and went on; "I admit, that the charges under which this boy has been arrested are true, but I must remind you, on his behalf, that he has been under considerable strain as of late. His friends and allies have been put through combat in this galactic civil war and it was for the good of a comrade, and a comrade alone, that he ran astray and attempted to take justice into his own hands. Though I understand that he is still culpable for his crime, I ask that his penalty not be one of the most lethal variety. He is the Chosen One and he still needs time to grow and learn."

Much of the court was sneering and jeering at Windu, something he wasn't accustomed to. He gave the room a general look of condemnation before he looked back to the judge and gave him a bow.

Anakin snuffed - he had no idea why Windu was sticking up for him. He guessed that he should be grateful, but he really couldn't care less. Whatever anyone said, he was still to be expelled, if not worse… And if Mace got his way and somehow prevented his suspension, he'd walk out anyway.

The Dug turned his long skull in the Chancellor's direction; "Orator Two: Your name and occupation."

"Cos Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor."

"Your testimony on the defendant's behalf?"

"Guilty."

The court audience was tentative about the Chancellor - one could feel it in the very foundations. His action today could well decide the allegiance of many who were beginning to sway toward the Confederate movement.

"I am the Chancellor of a democracy," he spoke carefully, his pale eyes betraying no hint of the plotting and intrigue Anakin was certain was going on within his mind, "And every individual within that democracy must be counted as equal. Be he Jedi, Chosen One, or no, he must face whatever punishment befits him."

The crowds seemed to concur, on the majority;

"Give him the death penalty!"

"Down with the Jedi!"

"Take away their privileges! All Jedi should pay!"

"Silence in the Courtroom," the Dug warned, glaring at each side of the dark chamber before he returned his eyes to Palpatine.

Mace was meanwhile looking at the Supreme Chancellor as though he'd never seen him before - he knew as well as any in the Order of how close Anakin was to the Chancellor, and he'd counted on a little more support on his behalf. His face was nothing compared to Anakin's, however, who was gaping in horror at the man who had just said _'Trust Me'_, and who he in turn **had** trusted.

The judge had turned to the final speaker now; "Orator Three: Your name and occupation," he said over again.

"Serenn Dooku, Political Leader of the CIS."

Anakin glared at Dooku with a renewed jealousy - so, the Chancellor had chosen his precious Separatist puppet over him, had he? Then so be it. He would make them both pay…

"Your testimony on the defendant's behalf?" the judge continued.

"Guilty."

---

Padmé closed her eyes as she heard Serenn's declaration; guilty.

Words from the past came back to haunt her, as they often did:

_/Wake up, senators, you must wake up. If you offer the Separatists violence they can only show violence in return/_

And hadn't they just?

---

"Whilst we all agree that we are indeed in the midst of a war, the way in which this boy went recklessly against all command and authority and murdered my colleague in cold blood tells me that he is culpable for the crime and open to face all consequences. His crime also brings into question the control that the Republic, and indeed the Jedi, have over their kind."

Murmurs traversed the stands; Mace eyed Serenn cagily.

"How am I to be sure that my colleagues will not become victim to another Jedi's wrath? How are the Republic to be sure that the Jedi won't turn on them when the situation suits it?"

More whispers.

"That's a foul twist of the facts at hand!" Windu shouted, giving Serenn an indignant glare, "And is irrelevant to the case."

"Is it? You obviously couldn't control this Padawan, how are we to know that you can control all the others?"

Mace's gaze tightened on Dooku - he'd used the 'we' term, so now the people were on his side. He was using his political charisma against him, and there was very little he could do about it.

"How are we even to know that this Jedi wasn't being used under order from his superiors to do this foul deed?"

"That's preposterous!" Palpatine shrilled in disgust.

"Is it, Chancellor?" Dooku relayed, "I think the people have a right to know how their war is being fought, whether it is with undercover Jedi or secret clones…"

'The people' were getting uneasy - what if the Count was right, what if the Chancellor and his Jedi were indeed doing things their own way and playing them all for fools, whilst getting their own form of justice in the progress?

Palpatine smirked smugly; "Ironic you say such, Count, when you have to resort to building a droid army underground."

"If it is the only way in which I can fight a decaying Republic, then so be it!"

The crowd followed the rally with interest. Anakin was scuffing the floor with his foot, frankly bored.

"This is not the case at hand!" Windu snarled, thumping the edge of his box with his fist, "We are here to judge Anakin and his crimes, against the Republic, should there be one. And, as far as I can see, he has made no crime **against the Republic**, only against the Confederacy."

Point to Mace.

The crowds were uncertain now and tried to get their head round this, whilst the gears of Serenn's mind whirred and clicked and he prepared his next move. He stared for a while at Mace, rather impressed by the Jedi Master's determination to save Anakin from the harshest of condemnations. And then, finally, he spoke, in a low, dark tone; "Your Honor, this is absurd. This boy should be judged as we are all judged, he should not receive clemency due to the mere fact that he is a _Jedi_!"

The crowds turned back to the separatist, concurring with low whispers.

Serenn pointed at Master Windu, "A colleague of mine has been _murdered _and all the Jedi can say for the boy is that he is free to do such as long as the Republic doesn't suffer?"

"He has been disturbed, as we all have, by recent events!" Mace protested, now leaning over his box in the direction of Dooku's hologram, "The battles - in which he has been a valiant participant - have stretched him to the limit and, clearly, have brought about adverse side effects!"

Serenn was just as quick to rally a response, though; "Well, it so happens that I, too, am disturbed by 'recent events'… but I don't go out of my way to _kill _those responsible!"

The Chancellor swallowed as the crowd rose to support the Count with raised hands, erupting with a cheer.

"If this is the Republican idea of justice, to give advantage to those in the Jedi Order, then I am _disgusted _by it and can only stress further that the Republic is too rotted and corrupt now for improvement - it simply requires demolishing and replacing by a new, stronger institution!"

More cheers from the host. Anakin was losing patience, wanting to just get his sentence and go, whilst Mace looked so deeply betrayed, it was almost heart-wrenching.

"Well, I think it's time the Chancellor faced fact!" Dooku went on, "He is being controlled by a Jedi Order that is obviously placing its own kind above the law, as well as the welfare of the Republic and its peoples!"

"Down with the Jedi!" someone yelled from the anonymous rows of the stalls.

"Well I say that he needs to make up his mind as to which he holds closer to heart - the Republic or the Jedi - and, if it is the latter, then he should rethink his position!"

"If the Count is implying that I hold prejudices against my people…" Palpatine spoke up in his most haughty voice.

"He is implying just such!" Dooku bellowed, in full swing, "And if the 'Supreme' Chancellor wishes to prove his impartiality, then I beg him to condemn this Jedi just as any murderer should be condemned!"

"I have already stated this!"

"In words, but in nothing more -is this statement going to be as empty as the rest of your so-called Republican policies? Those that promised improved trade, equal opportunities and - we may laugh at this - justice?"

"It is for the jury and not myself to judge -" Palpatine ranted on, whilst Mace added to the discussion with his own disputes:

"The Jedi are far from favoured in the eye of the Republic!" he spoke up, "How you can say such when you know so yourself is beyond me!"

Serenn looked smug, his eyebrows only rising in response, just inciting Mace's irritation further.

"Order! We shall have order!" the judge finally called, bringing the room back to a controlled silence; the three orators looked to him petulantly; "Count Dooku, must I remind you that you are here on the kind terms of the Republic," the Dug stated, "And not to exploit your position by using the court as a political platform."

Serenn bowed curtly.

"I think we have heard enough. Would the jury please retire to make their verdict. We shall recommence in a day's standard time. Orators indefinitely dismissed."

----

As dusk gave way to night, the Chancellor stared out across the cityscape of Coruscant. Mas Amedda, his senatorial aide, stood behind him, and was giving him a most grave look.

"You must break away, Excellency," he muttered hushly, "You can no longer afford to be connected with the Jedi corps, not one that stands up for mindless murderers simply because they are one of their own. What kind of justice is that?"

Palpatine blinked steadily, heaving a great sigh, "But the Jedi have served us for so long, friend." He shook his head, "I cannot cast aside centuries of faithful service because of one foolish Jedi and a disillusioned Republic who'll turn to anyone for hope, now, can I?

"But if _you_ want to have any hope of survival as Supreme Chancellor, your Excellency, then you _must_ break away," Amedda insisted, "The people are baying for Jedi blood. Their Order is an old-fashioned, outdated institution, which no longer serves the Republic with the efficiency it needs. This Republic needs a new kind of institution - the Clone Troopers are just the beginning. They ensure our safety far better and competently than these obsolete warriors. You've said so on occasion yourself."

"Then what for the Jedi?" Palpatine asked, "What shall be their fate?" He turned to Mas Amedda slowly, fixing him with his crystal-blue gaze, "They've done so much for us…"

Amedda sighed and shook his head, "Let the Force's will be done," he said, "If they are no longer required…"

"You'd have me destroy them?"

"Well, no… not unless they agree to some terms, to some new way of life."

"You mean to exile them?"

"No, of course not. Surely new roles could be found for them, roles where they served as every other citizen does, earning their own wages, paying taxes."

"And do you think they will be willing to adapt to this kind of regime so quickly?" Palpatine queried, "Can you possibly believe that the Jedi, some of which have been part of their Order for over 800 years, would willingly give it up for an office job?"

"But think of the rewards! They could have families, belongings, everything they've never had before!"

"Which has been ingrained into them as against their way of life since they were born? No, the Jedi will never adapt so easily."

"Then they must suffer as all species do when they cannot keep up with the times. They must become extinct."

Palpatine gave Amedda a long, hard stare, before, reluctantly, he nodded and returned to his window gazing.

"Be bold, your Excellency," Amedda continued, "Win this war without the Jedi. Throw aside the old, corrupt institutions - _you_ and you alone have the right to rule this democracy. You do not need a decadent old religion to preach to you how to rule! You know, and you know well. Become the sole head of your state, make your people proud to be part of your… your 'realm', your 'kingdom', your 'empire', or whatever you would call it!"

"_Throw aside_ the Jedi?" the Chancellor asked with the air of someone who thinks his friend may possibly have gone mad.

"Yes," Amedda persisted.

"Rule _without _council?"

"Well, with a select council, of course, as you've always done - keep your closest and most loyal allies near by - just cast aside these Knights who believe they know better."

"You make a bold proposal, old friend."

"You can do this, Excellency. You must do something. If you do not act, if you leave things as they are, then the Republic will turn on you, the institution will collapse, and they will turn to Count Dooku to make it right!"

"And you believe that the Count would also, seriously, overthrow the Jedi?"

Amedda nodded seriously, "I have no doubt. He has hinted at nothing but this from the start of his campaign."

"But he was once a Jedi. You think he has guts enough to destroy the very establishment that made him what he now is?"

"He had no qualms about fighting his old Jedi friends back on Geonosis, or so I have heard. He's had no qualms about putting a Jedi on trial, along with the rest of his institution. This is why the people turn to him - he is a new hope, a bright light in the dark. His future holds prospects and justice. You _must _make the next move, your Excellency - make it before Dooku does, and make it as bold a move as any he has yet pulled off, and you won't just win this war, you'll win the hearts and souls of your entire electorate."

After a long pause, the Chancellor muttered quietly, "I will ponder on the matter, Mas. For now, please leave me."

Mas Amedda bowed, his elaborate cloaks billowing about him, "As you wish, your Excellency."

Palpatine listened until the doors closed behind his aide and he was, once again, alone. He then stared at his reflection in the window and smiled.

**TBC…**


	31. The Devil's Snare

Author's Notes: I had one of those nights Saturday night where ideas kept rushing into my head for this fanfic. As cool as that was, it meant that I didn't get myself to bed (without jumping out again to write a few notes) until gone midnight! Urgh… I woke up at ten Sunday morning, which is highly unusual for me. I felt lazy, so I made myself go for a fifty minute walk into the nearby housing estate. Exercise is good.

And is anyone else getting a bit scared that we're on **_Part 31_**?!

**Kynstar:** You're right about Palpy - I think Ani realises that, too, in this chapter.

**Infamous One: **Thanks. It's really hard writing as Padmé sometimes because _I_ like Dooku too much, as well. I have to try and imagine him as someone I truly hate or I can't write the story 'properly'. ;) Heh.

**Audreidi: **Thanks for your help again. And I had to change Palpy's name because of a clash with another char, so sorry about that. My mistake.

**Leela74: **I certainly do feel honoured. I'm guessing you like your SW universe warped. Heh. ;)

**Silverwolf47: **I really like Palpatine, actually. Seriously, I do - I think he's one of the most stunning characters of the saga and I love writing as him. Thank you for your kind comments!

**PadawanMage: **Here's your update! And don't look in Shakespeare for the Charles II/Henry VIII thingys. It's history I looked at (Besides that, Charles the Second came after Shakespeare.). I love history a little too much. Till your next essay...er...review! ;)

-----

Eclipse

Part 31

Things came back to Serenn as he stepped off the plate. Reality was one of them. He sighed as he moved away, and rubbed his temples, whilst he felt Padm's gaze heavy upon him all the time.

"I bet you enjoyed that," she whispered bitterly.

He gave her a momentary glance, "Not really."

She looked unconvinced; "He'll be condemned to death, won't he?"

"I very much doubt it," he replied, walking forcefully out the room, feeling the sudden need for an open space and fresh air; all the time, Padmé tailed him like the lap dog she'd claimed not to be.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I _know_. Please be content with that."

"I need to know what happens to him - you've got to find out."

"Then call your friend 'Binks' in the senate - I'm sure he'll keep you informed."

She didn't know why, but Padmé suddenly felt that something was amiss; "What's going on?" she said.

Dooku flung open a door and walked out onto the veranda beyond, somewhere within the centre of the palace's domed structures. He arched his head back and took in the air, placing his hands on his hips and sighing deeply.

Padmé frowned uncertainly; "What's the matter?"

He heaved another sigh, continuing to look at the skies; "Nothing," he muttered, "I just need some air."

She rounded to his side; "You look terrible," she said, though in the manner of someone studying an old carpet rather than a person.

"Why, thank you, my dear."

"You do."

"I suppose one might say I feel a little… 'off-colour'." He began to walk away, "I will ponder on our situation…"

" 'Our'?"

"The _Confederacy_, my dear."

"Oh… of course."

"And will decide on the next, best course of action for us to take from there. Until then, I advise that you spend your time wisely."

She watched him as he strode further and further away, until he descended a flight of steps and was gone.

---

Obi-Wan watched Ki-Adi Mundi enter the Jedi Council chamber and gave a nod of greeting. He could tell before Ki-Adi even opened his mouth that the Jedi Knight didn't bring fair tidings; "What happened?" he asked anyway.

Mundi sighed, holding out his hands in defeat, "The Republic is poisoned against us. I can say no more…"

"They've been losing faith in us for years, now," Obi shrugged, "Even when I was a Padawan it was notable."

"But not like this, Obi-Wan," the Cerean insisted, moving across the room toward him, "Not like this."

Obi exhaled deeply, "Tell me about Anakin."

Ki-Adi gave Kenobi a thoughtful glance; "Why weren't you there, Obi-Wan? You could have then seen for yourself."

Obi gave Ki-Adi a passing glance, then walked away to the other side of the chamber, "I couldn't bare it," he whispered, clasping his hands beneath the heavy folds of his robes, "I just couldn't make myself go."

Ki-Adi nodded, realising that it could not be an easy time for Kenobi, and went on to answer his question; "I shall not lie to you. Your Padawan will be condemned. It's all too obvious. Even the Chancellor just shrugged it off."

Obi's brow contracted a fraction before relaxing again; "What'll happen to him?"

"Expulsion, at the least," Mundi speculated, "But they could push it as far as death."

"Only the Confederacy would want to put him to death."

"I know - but this isn't about the war, is it?"

Obi accepted defeat, "I guess not."

Mundi made his way over to Kenobi, again, and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Mace tried his best, Obi-Wan… he really tried."

Kenobi shrugged him off, "I know he did. But it doesn't matter any more. It's over."

---

Padmé hadn't thought twice about going to see her family again in the unexpected 'spare time' the Count had allotted to her. Racing into the suburbs via taxi, she planned to treasure every moment that she could gather with them for, all too soon, she knew she'd have to leave the beautiful city of Theed once more and go back to playing fugitive, on the run from the Republic, with this eccentric former Jedi and his bizarre clan of corporate misfits.

"I'm not sure what's going on," she said as she sat in the lounge of her parent's home, running a finger round the edge of her cup, "But something's not right. I can tell that much."

Sola took a sip from her own cup, sat in the comfy chair opposite. Ruwee and Jobal were on the sofa, whilst both Ryoo and Pooja were out playing with their neighbours.

"Is he keeping something from you? This 'Dooku'?" Sola queried.

Padmé nodded, "I'm positive he is - I just can't think what."

"Do you have to leave again?" Ruwee asked, trying to get more to the point.

"I don't know, dad," Padmé sighed, "But I can't imagine I'll be able to stay long. Count Dooku is speaking to the rest of the Confederacy sometime soon, or at least deciding what to do with them, and it looks like he's having Nute Gunray take over here."

"Gunray? Again?" Sola spat angrily, "Not that prat… Why can't he let you take over here instead, Padmé?"

Padmé blinked: _'Stupid girl',_ she thought, _'Why didn't you think of that?'_

"You know, Sola," she replied, "I never thought of it like that."

"Well, ask him! Or, if you don't, I will!"

Padmé almost rolled her eyes, "He's not easily swayed."

"What excuse does he have, though? It'd be better for him and his blasted movement!"

"If you can sway him, then be my guest."

Sola had that determined, Naberrie look in her eyes; "Oh, trust me, I will."

"You can tell that you wear the trousers in your family," Padmé added and they all laughed.

"It _would_ be nice to have you closer to home," Jobal concurred after a while, "We see too little of you these days."

"Yes, and we'd be able to feed you properly," Ruwee added, throwing his hand at her, "Look at you, still so pale and thin."

Padmé smirked, "Well, it sounds very enticing."

"Why don't we come back with to the Palace?" Sola asked, "Then I can talk to this 'Dooku'. What's his first name, again?"

"Serenn."

" 'Serenn'?" Sola shrugged, "Okay, I'll sway 'Serenn'. You watch me."

Padmé shook her head, "Oh, I will. It should be interesting."

"And how's Anakin doing?" Ruwee pondered, "Heard he was on trial…?"

Padmé sighed again, "It doesn't look good, as far as I can tell…"

Jobal exchanged glances with her husband and daughter, before then asking that which was hanging on the edge of everyone's tongue's, "And _is _he guilty, Padmé?"

She felt uneasy and had to look down, away from them; "Well… yes, I… I guess he is…"

The other three seemed taken aback; "But he was so nice when we met him," Jobal continued.

"He just made a mistake, mum," Padmé whispered, trying to find some way she could inject some defence for Anakin into this; but she couldn't.

"They won't -?" Ruwee ventured, his face gesturing the final words of the sentence.

Padmé felt a lump in her throat - her father was voicing her very fears now, that they would put Anakin to death. Part of her kept reassuring her that this would never happen, as Serenn had speculated, yet an uncertainty was also present there that niggled at her confidence and caused her to fret for the misguided Padawan.

She shook her head and placed her empty cup down on the small table before her; "I don't know, dad," she whispered, her voice caught in the fearful knot blocking her throat. She felt herself grow tearful as her father came across and embraced her lovingly; "I just don't know," she again sobbed.

---

Betrayed. Right, left and centre, he was betrayed.

How could he? How could Palpatine, of all people, do this to him? Why had the Chancellor made him privy to so much - told him that he was the Sith Master, promised him Padmé back - only to abandon him in favour of that aristocratic bastard?

Anakin growled as he wallowed in self-pity, watching the court sentinel pace back and forth before the enclosure of his cell, his eyes following the figure like those of a tiger watching its potential prey from behind the bars of its cage. He hated that pacing sentinel - not for any particular reason, but he had little else to focus his inner rage on at the current time. But, as is often the case, like a steaming brew, his anger cooled and abated during the ensuing minutes; Anakin was soon bored of being angry, and this boredom allowed him to take a much needed and long overdue backseat to his thoughts.

And it then _finally_ all clicked.

Anakin blinked: Of course! How _could _he? Palpatine couldn't technically let him down now - after all the effort the Chancellor had put into connecting with him, and after all the careful timing and blatant manipulation he had utilised in his strategy, he just couldn't afford to throw it all aside, not now, it'd make no sense! Palpatine wouldn't do all this for nothing.

For the first in a long time, Anakin smiled; when he actually allowed his mind to run things over, when he allowed the ire to cool and looked at the facts at hand, he could be intelligent. And now he saw that it was _he_ who had been the fool; the Chancellor couldn't do it to him, and he wouldn't. It wasn't logical. Finally, it all made sense now - it had always been play, a colossal game, and this was a continued progression in the overall match.

The marching sentinel began to get a little nervous as he noticed that the tiger in the cage was now sitting back and smiling at him.

----

Palpatine's eyes shot open and he smirked.

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance. It's timing was perfect.

Turning away from the window as the sky cast over, readying for the storm, the Supreme Chancellor began to pace away into the shadows. He could feel it through the Force - the boy had got it. Finally, he had made sense of his strategy.

Things were progressing, Palpatine admitted, a little faster than his schedule would allow. As he retreated into the antechamber beyond his apartments, then into a rather unremarkable side room, he pulled the black cowl over his head and became the creature beneath the skin, his true face and persona - he became Lord Sidious.

He now had a dilemma. Yes, the Jedi were rapidly becoming frowned upon and their hour was indeed growing late, but things couldn't be allowed to go too fast - if one stage of his plan became disjointed with another, the whole thing would fall apart. He could not allow that to happen. He never had. Everything that had happened up until now was consequence of his own brilliant skill and plotting, every pawn and piece on the board was his and his alone to move and manipulate to his will. He would never have it any other way. Slowly, he could see, this was dawning on Count Dooku just as it was dawning on Anakin, but both to adverse effect.

He smiled, staring hypothetically at his board and his two most vital pawns of the moment - Dooku and Skywalker. Both bold, both daring, both arrogant when they wished, both proud, both skilled, both intelligent. They were the two pieces revolving around but one thing, the instrument of both Dooku's demise and Skywalker's rise: Padmé Amidala.

Sidious rubbed his hands together, the hands of the proficient puppeteer. Oh, what a pretty little device that girl had turned out to be! So useful in so many situations, both as a young queen and a grown politician. Oh, definitely when grown… Who would have thought that so much would revolve around this daring woman? His rise to power alone had depended on her gullibility, his first protég's fate had come from an expedition at her expense, and his second apprentice's downfall would be _for _her, whilst Anakin's rise to his side would equally rely on her devotion to him. Or more likely the Chosen One's devotion to her.

Sidious rubbed his chin as he turned toward the room's far wall, feeling the faint edges of his stubble begin to rise up from beneath; Padmé puzzled him, he had to admit. Tyranus had indeed used and abused her just as he had intended, and then some - he was impressed by the fortitude of the man - but Padmé seemed to have a very strange, warped way of reacting. He couldn't judge for certain, seeing as he wasn't there to observe her at every waking moment, but, from what he could sense from his apprentice, and what little he could even pick up from Padmé, it seemed that she wasn't quite as disturbed by it all as he would have expected. She was upset, yes, but she wasn't in the depths of despair. She had found something to live for, in the outward guise of her cause to overthrow corruption in the senate, but also, he theorised, in something much more personal. He wasn't sure he could put his finger on this yet, but she intrigued him.

Her use was shortly to expire, though. Once Anakin took out his vengeance on her, Sidious was certain that he would not be able to find it in his heart to keep her much longer. She would be thrown on the scrap heap with Dooku and the entire Jedi corps.

He chuckled mildly as he paced forward within the small, darkened chamber. His cloak billowed over the scarlet carpet in his wake as he stepped onto a holo'-projector plate, and waited.

---

Dooku was the one looking surly this time round as he watched a small-scale hologram of Darth Sidious appear before him.

"In the mood for some argumentative rallying, were we?" was the first thing the Sith Master said.

Serenn shrugged lazily, sprawled back in a chair within his Nubian apartment, knowing immediately that they were back to talking about the courtroom drama; "It had to appear believable, didn't it?"

"My boy, you made it a soap opera."

"Capital. Then they would be doubly likely to lap it up."

Sidious was silent for a moment. Serenn hated it when he did that.

"Things are moving. Fast."

"Really?"

The Sith Master caught the sarcasm; "Silence."

Dooku's gaze tightened on Sidious for a second before he let the anger pass.

"We cannot allow things to continue so swiftly."

"We cannot?"

"No… it is too risky. Timing is everything."

"So what would you have me do? Procrastinate here for a while?"

"I'm sure you'd enjoy yourself."

Serenn wanted to tell the Sith Master to be silent this time round, but he dare not try his luck again. He contented himself with another slight knot of his brow, before he, too, let that elapse.

"No, procrastination doesn't suit you," Sidious finally said, "Just… _pace _yourself. Make your next conquest a… difficult one."

"Difficult?"

"Yes. Take your pick."

Serenn looked around his apartment, trying to pick a planet out of all that he could think of to mark as his next port of call.

His eyes finally settled back on the shaky, blue hologram of the Sith Lord; "Alderaan?"

Another silence.

"Well, you do aim high. One of the most staunch of Republican systems…?"

Serenn glared harshly at Sidious, "You said to make my next target a lengthy task. I have selected one to best suit your wishes, my Master. Bail Antilles will not be easily swayed, yet there is something within him that I can work on - his hatred of the war, his ill feeling toward the clones - I have a foundation."

"But as an equal antagonist to the Republic, what other can you offer him but more warfare?"

Again, the Count merely shrugged; "We will see…"

Sidious seemed indifferent, either way; "As you wish." And with that, he was gone.

Serenn stared at the void for a while, trying to work out what was going on in Sidious' head. He couldn't think like the Sith Master, who seemed to have little coherence to his thoughts, yet so much cleverness and control. The fact was he himself knew that he had fallen too deep in Palpatine's plots somewhere along the line, and it was going to be one Hell of a job to get out of them again. He had never liked being subordinate to another, though it was bearable, but now… now he simply didn't have any control whatsoever.

The stupid thing was that he'd known all along that this would happen, yet he'd let himself fall anyway, and hadn't let anyone catch him. Now nobody was left back up above to offer him the ladder, to give him their hand, to usher him to climb back up.

At least, he didn't think that there was…

He shook his head, got up and left.

----

Passel Argente itched his nose. This offended Boba. Argente knew it did, and proceeded to do it again. Boba glared. Argente smirked.

It was like the desert island scenario, where everyone, living in such close confines, grew so sick of each other that the very presence of everyone else around them offended them to high heaven. Having Argente and young Fett sat opposite ends of a table, staring one another out, wasn't exactly a good idea when terms were currently so bad. They were both tempting fate. And they liked it.

Argente's purple-skinned aide was getting a bit nervous as he stood in close proximity to the two, an innocent bystander on the sidelines, twiddling his thumbs - there was something unsettling about the clone child, and he didn't want to set the timer off on the bomb; he had no doubt that this child would explode, given half the chance, and he had been trying his hardest to communicate this to Passel for the past half hour, but Passel either didn't understand or chose not to.

Purple whined quietly. The moment was getting ever thinner, as though someone were holding their breath and waiting to release it.

Then, finally… a console bleeped.

Purple jumped out of his skin, whilst both Boba and Passel merely turned their heads about, mildly intrigued. Eventually, the magistrate rose to his feet and made his leisurely way across the floor until he reached the buzzing unit. Boba just sighed, leaning his head upon his hand.

"Passel Argente, CIS outpost at Ord Mantell," the magistrate snarled.

Ah, finally, we've reached you!

Argente felt his lips peel back in disdain; "Viceroy…" he greeted the Neimoidian, "What news do you bring?"

At least he and the magistrate concurred on one thing, Boba thought, as he heard Nute Gunray's warbling tone invade their space - the Neimoidian Viceroy wasn't worth their salt. He wasn't worth anything.

I bring word from Count Dooku.

"Can he no longer communicate himself?"

Nute paused at this - he was a coward, but he hadn't got to where he was in life by being completely stupid; Of course he can, you fool, how do you think he got this message to me? He is busy and cannot report to all his _subsidiaries _himself. He does not have the time for you.

Boba grimaced - he wished he could have a good go at both of them, magistrate and viceroy, but hearing them jibe at each other was a fair enough substitute.

"Get on with it, Nute."

Gunray paused, heaving a great breath, The strategy has changed.

"Again?"

Will you let me finish?

Argente pouted. Boba had to stifle a giggle. He saw Purple give him a sour glance, but a quick returning glare in his direction soon sent him quailing.

The Count has decided that divide and conquer may actually be the best way of moving things along, especially now that we have Poggle's reinforcements on the way. Take all that you can, Outer and Mid Rim. He will tackle the more Core Worlds himself.

"And with whose army does he plan to do this?" Argente queried.

Well, obviously not yours, Magistrate, Nute replied, as though he found the notion hilarious, He has better ones than _that _at his disposal.

"You arrogant maggot, our armies come from the same damn place!"

Boba could imagine Nute pouting at this. Savouring that thought, he folded his arms behind his head and placed his feet up on the tabletop.

Just do it, Passel! Gunray glowered with a refined air of finality. Then there was a gentle 'click' and the connection was cut.

Argente would have slammed the phone down, had it been that form of communication. Instead, he merely contented himself with clenched fists and a roll off of all his favourite, native swear words. Some of them were quite inventive - Boba took some mental notes for future reference.

---

It was a warm day the next morning in Theed. The entire Naberrie clan had indeed accompanied Padmé back to the palace, where she would hear what Dooku had to say about the next move of the Confederacy. And Sola continued to claim that she would, in turn, have words with Dooku about the position of her sister. Padmé was still sceptical on this.

A couple of nearby Battle Droids watched on with a little confusion as Pooja and Ryoo paddled in one of the fountains in the courtyard, holding their little dresses above their knees and trotting through the water, making little splashes and giggling hysterically. Padmé sat on the edge and watched them, whilst Sola stood by her side and their parents looked on.

"I half wish we had grown up in Theed," Padmé said aside to her sister, "Think how wonderful it would have been, playing in the fountains and seeing those waterfalls every day."

"True," Sola agreed, "But we had a good time back in the country, didn't we?"

"Oh yeah," Padmé agreed, "A wonderful time."

Back from a window in the palace, Serenn spied out the Naberrie clan and stood there, stark still, watching them; after an uneasy night and a continuing bad feeling toward Darth Sidious' grand design, he could now add a feeling of sheer envy to the list; the one thing he had never had was a family. It was one of those things that made him bitter toward the Jedi Order - just the very thought of being torn from your mother's arms when you were but an infant, to be trained in some religious corps as a warrior and to become as poor as a peasant for the rest of your life, without choice on your behalf or, worse, on your parent's, hurt him to the core. He had often wondered how different things would have been had he remained at his father's mansion and grown to be his heir and successor. He was certain he would never have done as much as he now had, but the past and all those futures that had never happened were not to be dwelled upon; it wasn't healthy.

Shaking these thoughts from his mind as best he could, he swept down the corridor and out down the steps into the courtyard. Swiftly and unabashedly, he made his way across the terrace and stopped a little behind the happy scene.

"Greetings, my lady," he said, making them all jump and wheel about (except Ryoo and Pooja, who gave him a mildly curious glance before continuing with their play).

Padmé looked in half a mind to snap at him, though was wary of her parents' presence, and merely allowed herself a quick scowl before she said, "Count Dooku… this is my family." She got up from the wall around the fountain and gestured to each one in turn, "My sister, Sola" (she gave the Count a curt nod, and he returned an all-too-poite bow) "my mum and dad, Jobal and Ruwee" (their nods were rigid, as though they mistrusted the man greatly. Again, he was too courteous in his response) "and Ryoo and Pooja, my two nieces," she finished, her arm taking in the two paddling infants.

The girls both halted and looked nervously at the tall, old man, caught completely off-guard; Dooku gave them a warm smile and bowed low to them, "Charmed," he said.

They both giggled, and got a word in before their mother could; "Are you a Jedi?" Ryoo asked, spying out the shiny lightsabre hung at his hip as she waded to the edge of the fountain.

Serenn seemed to hesitate a little at this, and settled with, "I _was _a Jedi, but I left them, a long time ago."

"Oh…" Ryoo sighed, clearly disappointed.

"We love Jedi," Pooja piped up, coming up by her sister's side.

"Do you now?" Serenn returned, finding the innocent conversation almost soothing; he didn't often get to talk to children.

"Yeah! They tell the story all the time at school!"

The Count smirked; "And which story is that?"

Padmé and Sola were both mesmerised by this unexpected turn of discourse and looked between the elder man and two young girls as each one spoke, quite astounded. Jobal and Ruwee seemed to be caught equally off guard, though were endeared by their grandchildren's antics more than anything.

"The one where the two Jedi," Pooja went on, hopping out the pool of water and skipping animatedly about the ground, "Come to our planet and save us from the evil, bad Jedi!"

"He was a Syth, Pooja!"

"No he wasn't…"

"A Sith, children?" Dooku suggested quietly.

They glanced at each other, holding a silent counsel and, agreeing about this, continued, "Yeah, well, anyway, the two Jedi beat the Sith!"

"Yeah," Ryoo nodded, "And Aunty Padmé was in the story, too!"

"She's famous!"

"Real famous!"

Padmé shook her head and lightly put her hand to it, allowing herself an abashed smile.

"Now girls," Sola said in her level one warning voice.

"But Qigong -"

"**Qui-Gon**, Pooja! Don't you listen?"

Dooku allowed himself a gentle chuckle as they bantered amongst themselves.

Ryoo took over, "Qui-Gon and his padadadawan…"

"Padawan, silly!"

"Pooja!"

"Ryoo!"

"I trained Qui-Gon, you know," Serenn said, breaking the two apart before they'd quite got their hands on each other.

They looked awe-struck; "You did?" they chorused.

Dooku nodded, "Oh, yes. He was a fine Jedi."

"He was the bestest one," Ryoo said certainly.

"Was he?" Dooku rallied.

"But he got deaded by that devil Sith thing…" Ryoo went on.

"_Killed_, Ryoo!" Pooja corrected her.

"Same thing!"

"Did you know the other one?" Pooja suddenly asked, changing the subject a little.

Dooku's eyebows rose, "Other one?"

"Yeah, the… 'Padawan'."

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah, that's him!"

Serenn's eyes took on a slightly distant aura as he quietly replied ; "Oh yes… I know him."

"Cool!"

"All right, girls, let the old man be!" Sola said in a straight zip from using her level one tone to using her level five one.

They both whined, but acquiesced, and Jobal got out a small towel from the hamper she was carrying and began to dry their legs. Sola, meanwhile, turned on Dooku.

"Delightful children, my dear," he nodded again, courteously.

"Yes, they are," Sola nodded, but in a voice of utter no-nonsense, "I want to ask you something. My sister reckons you may be putting Nute Gunray in charge here."

Dooku gave Padmé the kind of glance that told her that he was wondering what else she'd been telling them; "Indeed," he muttered, "I may."

"Why not her?"

"Why _not _her?"

Sola had to back pace a little and think hard about what he meant, unable to instantly make sense of his dialogue; "That's what I'm asking you," she said, defeated.

"Perhaps you should ask her," he suggested, nodding toward Padmé. Padmé, meanwhile, looked utterly bewildered.

"But she doesn't have a choice in the matter," Sola went on.

"Doesn't she?" the Count countered.

Sola's brow furrowed; "That's the impression I get," she said.

"Well, you're wrong," Serenn once again interposed, "I sincerely recommend that you ask her why she isn't to stay here."

Sola's gaze tightened mistrustfully on him; she was being walked over in this verbal match.

She gave Padmé a brief glance and saw her shrug it off, so looked back at him; "She'd do well here. The people respect her."

"I have no doubt."

"Let her stay."

"I must confess that I have no power over her. Not any more."

Padmé felt a ring of familiarity resonate in her mind and she shared a silent stare with the Count; he was clearly asking her to play the game, but she was point-blank refusing and remaining stood on the sideline.

"We would like to see more of our daughter," Ruwee finally said, meeting Dooku's gaze for the first time, "I know you Jedi types don't have family, but -"

Serenn immediately took offence; "So you think I do not understand?" he interrupted, probably more harshly than even he'd intended, "You think that I've never had anyone to care about? Well, you are _gravely _mistaken, my good man. I _have _had people to care about - many of them - so do not think me so damned ignorant."

Ruwee looked irritated, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then please enlighten me to your 'meaning'."

"That's enough!"

Both men turned to Padmé, who was beginning to look increasingly weary; "Look, there's no need," she continued, and both Jobal and Sola seemed to silently concur in the way that a collective of women do.

Ruwee gave in to his daughter, presuming that she did indeed know better. Serenn, however, was giving her the unreadable look.

"Then _are _you staying?" Sola pressed, making Padmé break the stare she forgot she was holding toward the Count.

"I…" she stuttered, caught off-guard.

"Yes, are you?" Dooku added, folding his arms in a way that somehow made Padmé feel locked out and vulnerable, "As your colleague, I'd really like to know."

She gave him a momentary scowl, thanking him for his help; "I'd like to stay…" she began, until, suddenly, she found herself again staring at the Count. They each looked straight into one another's eyes, having a wordless exchange, for quite some time. Padmé tried to read him, and tried to think clearly about what she should do next; Serenn had all but given her a free reign, yet she felt further constrained by this. Somehow, something was telling her that her destiny lay elsewhere, that she didn't belong here any more… and as much as she hated the man before her, he was now her key to restoring the galaxy to what she hoped was right. He had used her, and now, she felt, it was time for her to use him… if she only had the guts to go through with it this time.

"But I have a duty to the galaxy," she went on, finishing her words before turning back to her parents, "I would love to stay, but I just can't afford to. I… I feel that it's only right that I carry on. That I leave again."

Sola looked mildly affronted, but was more perplexed than anything; "You just said you wanted to stay," she went on, "You said it earlier, we all heard you!" Watching as her sister exchanged glances with Dooku, she suddenly felt her deep-rooted suspicion rush to the surface and she launched into a savage attack; "What's he doing to you, Padmé? It was only when you got anywhere near him that you changed your mind! What's he _doing_ to you?"

Panic. For some reason, Padmé felt it rush through her. She took a step back from her sister, swallowing hard, feeling momentarily more threatened by her than the Count.

"Padmé, come back to us! Don't let him change you," Sola blustered on. Jobal had by now put the warning, motherly hand on Sola's shoulder, attempting to calm her down, whilst also reminding her that her two little girls were watching.

"He wouldn't hurt Aunty Padmé," Ryoo suddenly determined with her childish sense of righteousness, "He was a Jedi."

"Yeah," Pooja nodded, "Coz Jedi don't hurt anyone, do they?"

Dooku swallowed.

TBC…


	32. Return to Innocence

**Author's Notes: **How's this? Two updates at once with Part 33 well on the way? Enjoy it while it lasts! ;)

---

**Eclipse**

**Part 32**

Contrasting greatly with the last time he took to the court room, Anakin walked into a chamber imbued with silence today. The stands were filled as before, but the collective held their breath as one, waiting for the bubble to burst. Anakin wasn't just uncaring this time round, though - he was _smiling_. He might have given a few people a caustic wave if his hands were not shackled. Taking his place above the stalls and looking to the stone-faced jury, he heard, with no great surprise, that he was guilty of all he was accused of. He glared at them apathetically as they continued to tell him that he was to be stripped of all Jedi privileges, to have his lightsabre confiscated and his braid severed, and was to be exiled from the Republic for the rest of his life, on pain of death.

His face seemed to ask them if that was the best they could do, and the entire room, feeling a communal sense of unease sweep over them, continued to maintain their silence as the hostile youth stalked out of the court.

The fall of the Jedi had begun.

---

"Exiled?" Obi-Wan spluttered as he heard the result of Anakin's hearing, "Why exile? That's an old, outdated penalty."

Mace exchanged glances with Yoda, both looking equally troubled; "It does seem odd," Windu acquiesced, "But it's not execution, at least. And for that, I'm thankful."

"The Separatists will be baying for our blood, you know," Obi went on, "This will be a great injustice to them."

"Let them stew in their own juices," Mace sneered in an uncharacteristic manner, getting up from his chair opposite Obi and walking away, his body speaking of his weariness already of these unproductive 'Clone Wars'.

Kenobi followed him with his eyes, before looking back to Yoda, hoping to find some consolation there. The small, green Jedi could offer him little in the way of comfort, though.

Making one of his quiet sighs, a sign that he was caught in the midst of his own maze of thoughts, Yoda eventually said, "Something troubles you, Master Windu. Share it with us, will you not?"

Mace had that resolute look of incense in his eyes when he turned back to them; "It's not accidental," he said quietly, "Anakin being thrown out into exile. Isn't this, when all layers are stripped away, actually far worse a punishment than death? He will be out there, presumably in the Outer Rim, alone and unguarded."

"He won't be under surveillance?" Obi-Wan gasped in surprise.

"Use your head, Master Kenobi," Mace persisted, "He'll be in the _Outer_ Rim. The Republic has little or no control passed the Mid Rim boundary. Not really."

Comprehension dawned in Kenobi's eyes, "But the Confederacy _does_."

Windu nodded, "Exactly. They now hold garrisons at Naboo and Geonosis, and Force knows where else. Wherever Anakin flees, they'll not be far behind. And if they want to exact revenge on him, it shouldn't be too difficult. All-in-all, it looks like they've construed his death sentence without seeming to present him with one directly."

Obi-Wan went pale, "They can't do that!"

"They can, Obi…" Windu sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "Anakin gave them the excuse, and they'll be looking to deal the blow. We just have to hope that fortune is on Anakin's side, out there on the edge. Maybe he'll be sensible and go back to where he came from."

Obi would have scoffed at Mace's use of the word 'sensible' had he not been overcome by a personal feeling of great discrimination; "How has this all happened?" he spluttered, "How has our system have become so… so…"

"Corrupt?"

Mace and Obi-Wan looked to Yoda as he piped up in the midst of their conversation. Obi stared at the Jedi Master for some time before he reluctantly made to nod; "Yes," he agreed.

"The question we need to ask ourselves," Mace went on, "Is where the bad egg in our system is? _Who _is it who is coordinating all this? Or who are _they_, if there are more than one?"

"Two there will be," Yoda ascertained, "Always known this, have I. An efficient team they make, and evade us with skill, they do."

"The Sith…" Kenobi snarled, treating the word almost as though it were a curse, something so filthy that he had to spit it from his mouth. He bit down on his tongue, the very thought of two Sith being able to take on an institution of thousands - and overcome it - insulting him to his core; he felt so helpless, lost in the haystack, looking desperately for the needle, whilst the Sith Master stood outside, holding it and laughing.

"So," Windu continued, "How do we root them out? How is it that they're evading us?"

Obi scuffed the floor, shaking his head wretchedly, "The Force is favouring them. It's not hard to notice. It's been so cloudy as of late, so gloomy and dark."

Mace nodded his assent, "You are right, Obi-Wan. We are powerless. The Republic will have its way with us, and the Sith will then truly be triumphant…"

"Give up, we cannot!" Yoda pressed with an amazing gusto, thumping the floor with his cane. Mace and Obi jumped a little; sometimes his presence filled a room so suddenly that it surprised one.

Yoda looked between the two in a way that made them both feel like schoolboys caught trying to climb out, over the fence, and they simultaneously looked to their feet; "Only over our plight is if give up the struggle, we do," he added, "And give up, we shall not."

Mace and Obi-Wan concurred, nodding their heads, feeling suddenly ashamed of themselves. After an uneasy pause, Mace suddenly seemed to remember something and, reaching into his robes, he withdrew something and offered it to Kenobi; "Here. They told me to give this to you."

Yoda watched as Obi-Wan took the item, his large ears sagging in sorrow.

Obi looked at it hard; "Who's is this?" he asked as he turned the plain, metallic cylinder over in his palms.

"Anakin's," Mace said, looking down at the bland lightsabre hilt, "It seems that, even in custody, he couldn't resist tinkering about with things."

Obi ran his fingers over the instrument, a simple lightsabre handle, yet something that would still take any normal Jedi a good two days to build - but not Anakin, who could build these things in his sleep. Trust him to think of doing this whilst he was under duress.

Kenobi swallowed, a lump building in his throat; "I remember," he said quietly, blinking away his deep-seated grief, "When Anakin was but twelve, he…" He laughed for a moment, fond of the memory.

Mace smiled back sadly in return whilst Yoda seemed unable to look Kenobi in the face, caught up in his own hurtful memoirs.

"I remember," Obi went on, "When Anakin built an entire droid out of spare parts and brought it to life and everything… And he even once dressed it up in his Jedi robes and sent it parading about my room." Kenobi smiled, "He was such a joker at times… Qui-Gon would have loved him."

Mace placed a hand on Obi's shoulder, comforting his friend empathetically, whilst Yoda made an indiscreet sigh and nodded. He understood completely how Kenobi felt.

----

Nute Gunray beamed. It was a rare sight, but he knew that, very soon, that little green and blue orb, that had once caused him so much humiliation and strife, would soon be his again. Or at least his on loan.

He had high hopes for this Confederacy - as long as he didn't have to get near any of the fighting, he was content. The secessionist movement was tightening its hold around the Mid Rim and Core systems like a noose, strangling the life of the Republic out of it. He was to make Naboo his main garrison, whilst Poggle would act as his backup, from the nearby world of Geonosis. Though the Republic had, in the past, treated the Outer Rim worlds with distain and aloofness, they would soon come to appreciate the vitality of these planets to their cause - albeit being too late - for the more Count Dooku took control of this 'circumference' of systems, the more he trapped the Republic within their own den. If you drew a dot-to-dot on a map of the galaxy, linking all the Separatist worlds together, you'd see a nice wreath making its presence known on all sides of the Core, an intergalactic paddock keeping all of its globular livestock in check. The Separatists were closing in from the outside, chasing the Republicans all the time toward its nucleus.

Gunray was surprised that none of this had occurred to the Supreme Chancellor, an export from Naboo himself, who should know better than most of the significance of the Outer Rim. Nute might have pitied the man if he didn't love the sight of another failing worse than he had so much…

---

Padmé stared at her luggage. She was sure she'd forgotten to pack something, and she might have continued to think about it, had the very concept of her finding _this _worth worrying about not suddenly occurred to her as being absurd. After all that had happened, she was worried about leaving some trivial piece of clothing behind?! She half-heartedly scoffed at herself, at the same time loathing her own vanity and tactlessness, though it, in truth, harmed no one but herself.

She hadn't really noticed the shadow by the door watching her for the past five minutes; "I wanted to know, my lady," Serenn said, making Padm's heart do another acrobatic leap into her throat, "Why you said 'yes'?"

Padmé scowled. There was a book on her bed. She considered throwing it; "Can't you _knock _or something, please?" she murmured through clenched teeth, fingers itching for the book, but restraint holding her back.

He didn't reply - she'd half expected him too, but was rather glad he hadn't. Taking a calming breath, she turned to face him and saw him leant back against the open door with arms folded, seeming, overall, too composed. His eyebrows gradually arched and she got the message.

"I just… don't belong here anymore," she belatedly replied his question, shrugging, "It's as simple as that."

He looked unconvinced, nodding in the way that tells one he has severe doubts; "So you belong with me instead, do you?"

She frowned, though his voice held no insinuation or spite; he was simply asking her a question, and he didn't do that often; "I didn't say that," she rallied.

He paused and stared at her; she had the feeling that he was reading her through her eyes, turning the pages of her internal book until he found something interesting to use.

"Did you want to ask me something?" he finally said.

She blinked, taking a mental back step; "I guess…" she murmured, realising there was something she'd been meaning to ask, but had forgotten sometime between packing and re-packing her gowns and her gloves.

She squirmed a little under his gaze, picking up the book from her bed and running it between her hands, just to give her some kind of semi-distraction from him; "You seemed uneasy back there," she said, and, turning her eyes to him, added, "As if Ryoo and Pooja touched a nerve."

His eyes wandered again, but this time in a way that told her she was spot on rather than far-off; "Yes," he sighed, "Children are such amazing little things. So truthful and honest."

She looked back at the old book and flicked blankly through some pages; "What are you going to do about it?"

"About what?"

"Whatever they touched upon?" She stared at him again - for once, she felt as though she were actually the one manoeuvring him in the conversation, rather than vice versa. And she liked it.

He looked mildly amused, though also a tad bitter and uncomfortable; "'Do'? Frankly, what can I do?"

Padmé paused, fiddling with the spine of the book, running a finger down and over its ridges and folds; "Why did you stop?" she suddenly asked in a more tense tone.

He blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"The other night," she whispered, casting aside the book and looking him bravely in the face, "Why did you stop? You've never stopped whenever I've asked you to, for whatever reason, before - you've never listened to me - so why start now?"

Ah, so here was the real question.

Serenn stared at her.

"I saw it in your eyes," she went on, "Something different. What made you stop?"

If he hadn't glanced briefly aside, Padmé would have thought he wasn't listening; "Look, we know one another much more intimately that I care to think about," she said, losing patience and walking toward him, "Please, for Force's sake, just be honest with me!"

He heaved a great sigh and looked down on her with a gentle awe; "_You_ made me stop," he muttered matter-of-factly, "Can't you see that?"

She looked taken aback, her brow furrowing; "Me?"

"Yes."

They both turned as they heard footsteps in the hallway. A Nubian guard walked by, giving them a quick glance and a nod of courtesy as he went, before he was gone again.

They looked back at one another.

"We'll depart tonight," he said suddenly, making to leave.

"Where are we going now?"

"Alderaan."

Padmé hoped he was joking, "Alderaan?" she spluttered, "Are you mad?"

"Quite possibly," he smirked, turning to her with a low bow in the hallway, "Good day."

---

"What will happen to me now?"

"The Council have granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise."

His braid dropped to the floor with a muted rap. His old clothes were forfeit and he was forced to dress in normal robes, clothing that reminded him of the peasant folk back home, on Tatooine. His lightsabre, or that stunted thing he'd taken about two hours to build in his cell, was taken from him. Under oath, he was forced to swear never to build a new one, never to abuse the skills he'd been taught as a Padawan, and never to return to the Core Worlds. All this was on pain of death.

He looked in the reflection of a window as he walked by, amidst a body of guards, feeling a little odd without his braid swinging by the side of his face, feeling almost as though he were naked whilst he dressed in this strange, baggy attire, feeling lost without his trusty lightsabre, but, above all, he felt strangely free. Even when Qui-Gon had taken him from Tatooine, and released him from Watto's service, he had never been completely free. He had jumped from one form of slavery to another, become a flunky of the Jedi rather than a servant to a junk dealer.

Now he _was_ free. What fools they were, giving him this wild sentence, with boundless freedom, in the Outer Rim! And how were they going to instigate this sentence, exactly? Who was to know that he wasn't using his Force powers to do what he liked, that he wasn't building a lightsabre? How could they keep these sort of tabs on him? Yes, the Republic was a failing institution, throwing sentences at prisoners that they couldn't enforce, and giving the criminals more liberties than the law-abiding citizens, and, despite the obvious injustice in the system, he was damn grateful for it! The _fools_.

This did eventually beg the question of how he'd get from the Outer Rim back to the Sith Master. He guessed that Palpatine already had this worked out. He would lay his trust in the Sith Master and he would wait and see. He was sure he wouldn't have to wait long.

TBC…


	33. The White Spectre

**Author's Notes:** I'm at university and I didn't deign to bring my _Star Wars_ universe map with me, so my mind's a little short on planet names and even shorter on their locations. Sorry if my choice of systems in this chapter is unoriginal or if I chose systems too close to the Core. If I've used any of them before and you think it's not a good idea for me to use them again, or whatnot, then please email me with an alternative; I do edit these things all the time, whether you realise it or not.

Another point I'm gonna have to make is this (big breath): this story is **not **going to stretch over three years like the 'canon' Clone Wars do. This fanfic started off as a whim and continues to be just that. I think I sometimes forget, because I've been writing this for so long, that this is all just 'for fun'. I'm trying to do my best with the Clone Wars but, if you haven't already guessed, this story focuses more on the characters than the background information, and I hate writing war scenes unless I truly have to. Therefore I'm not going to drag these wars on forever. To do that, I'd have to stop the action in this story soon, then come back with a 'three years later' kinda chapter, or even split the story into two halves, which I don't want to do. I did once consider splitting this story into two, but the plot has since 'evolved' and now there's only going to be one major gap of a few months, if that, and that's not going to be yet. You can criticise my poor time-planning and whatnot in this fic all you like, but I'm trying not to take it all mega seriously - I need to remember to have fun with it. It should be my relief from work, not my extra work _on top _of my regular work, you know? The moment it stops being fun is the moment I have to stop, and I love this story too much to want to get into that position. I have really been finding it hard to keep this fic going lately because of the Clone Wars conundrum and the feedback from some of you guys agreeing that things are going too fast, but I just want to let you know that I'm doing what I feel is best for the story, and I'd rather keep it going on a less-than-believable, speeding gear than procrastinate over it for years and eventually continue it on an all-too-realistic one, you get me? Well done if you do, coz I've lost myself in that maze of words! Heh.

Okay, sorry for the speech: please enjoy!

----

**Eclipse**

**Part 33**

As the Separatists burst forth on fronts all across the galaxy - centring in the Mid and Outer Rim - the Republic Army was again forced into combat, led - against the wishes of the majority of the Senate - by the Jedi Knights. The time for a routine course of 'battle after battle' was over - now, it seemed, many campaigns were to be simultaneously fought at once, for the good or ill of either side.

Taking to the fore as a general for the first time, Obi-Wan aspired to clear his mind of his troubles by being as active as he could in the war. He was to lead the army on the front at besieged Chandrilla, overrun by the Commerce Guild. Meanwhile, Master Windu was called out to Yavin, under threat from the Corporate Alliance, whilst Kit Fisto found himself on Mon Calamari, and yet more Jedi were sent into the treacherous districts of Munilist, Rodia and Corellia.

Anakin, for the time being, was on a freight ship bound for the Outer Rim. He knew not where - the Outer Rim was a large place - but he was certain that it would not matter. Palpatine would find him. He would.

---

Padmé had a growing knowledge of how to read Count Dooku. Or rather, how not to read him. As she sat by him once again in his Solar Sailor, she noticed he was smiling, and _that_, she knew, could mean one of a dozen different things; never could it be read as simple contentment.

"I don't like it when you smile like that," she pointed out flatly.

"You don't?"

"No."

"Ah. So, what would you have me do?"

She gave him a brief scowl, her eyes returning for a second to the blur of light speed before them; "I don't know… just _not _smile, perhaps."

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, but continued to smile.

"You're treading dangerously," Padmé warned him.

"Oh, and what will you do?"

"I'll think of something."

"I'm sure."

There was another pause.

She sighed and gave in, "What are you smiling about, then?"

He glanced at her, "You."

"Me?"

"Yes - you giving Gunray something you could have had, you letting him take governance of _your_ _own_ planet - an ironic thought if one thinks back to the events of a decade ago. Oh, I shall not soon forget the look on your face when I made you shake his hand back there."

She scowled; "I'll never forgive you for that."

He laughed properly this time, "No, I doubt Nute will, either."

She folded her arms and huffed, feeling awkward; "I feel guilty for not staying," she murmured.

"Then why didn't you?"

She looked at him again, "I've already told you."

"I know you have," he nodded, hand suddenly moving to a lever and gradually pulling it toward him, "But you don't seem so sure yourself."

She watched as the blur before her slowed to form a clear picture, stars dotting the black heavens and twinkling at her with innocent glee. There, amidst all this, was not the glorious planet of Alderaan, but a belt of gigantic asteroids.

"No," she resolved, giving Serenn a mistrustful glance, "I'm not."

---

Anakin gently kicked the walls as he lay back on a bunk in the freighter's dorms; "Why aren't I being tracked or ought?" he asked an idle guard, who was stood by, watching him, to his left, "I thought you guys would want to keep an eye on me?"

The young guard looked reticent to speak to the convicted criminal but, anyway, answered, "I'm unsure. I've heard that the Chancellor said it was against the rights of a sentient being to be tracked like that."

Anakin's lips pricked, "He said that, did he?"

"I've _heard _that he did, sir," the guard emphasised.

Anakin nodded slowly, laying back on the cot again, "He's a good man."

"He is indeed, sir."

"Do you think the Republic needs to change, though?"

"Of course. No offence to you, sir, but I think the Jedi are at fault."

"Aw, I take no offence. I'm glad I'm rid of them. They're a dying thing… the Republic doesn't need them any more."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

The guard was still a little perturbed by this conversation - Anakin could tell by the way he held himself, his eyes forever glancing about, seeking the sight of one of his fellow soldiers, with whom he'd rather converse. He found none.

"Do you think the Army of the Republic does a better job than the Jedi?" Anakin pushed on, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk and leaning toward the man.

"That has yet to be seen, in my opinion," the guard replied.

Anakin shrugged, "I think they're impressive."

"They are that, sir, but so, too, are the Jedi."

Anakin was amused by this soldier; "You're pretty intelligent, aren't you?"

"I like to think so, sir."

"I like you."

"Er… thank you, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Commander Piett, sir."

Anakin nodded, "I'll remember you. I swear."

Piett looked uncertain as to whether he should be pleased by this or not; he didn't have time to dwell on the matter, though. There was a terrific crash outside the craft, as though they'd been hit by something. The whole freighter lurched to one side and both Anakin and Piett met the far wall with a bang.

Sirens whined in the corridors above. Smoke billowed from a fissure in the floor. There was another loud explosion from overhead. Anakin didn't need anyone to tell him that, whatever had happened, this ship was going to blow in a matter of minutes.

He placed a hand on the commander's body and gave it a shake. He was unconscious. Anakin was about to shrug and leave him, but something made him stop and turn back. Staring at the man from the nearest doorway, he felt compelled to save him; good men were hard to find and - his mind told him - he would soon need to have many good men to depend on. Walking back to the young Piett, he hauled him over his shoulders, and walked out into the ship's passages, making his way to the very bowels of the vessel, where the escape pods would be.

There was confusion all around him. For the most part, terrified men were just running wildly around the halls, trying to save their own petty skins. This kind of cowardice did nothing for Anakin, and he would have sooner tripped them up as they passed than help them to escape. In fact, he did with a couple of them. He was surprised that no one seemed to care about him - after all, he was a convicted criminal in the eyes of the Republic - but, then again, who would take the time to care about the fate of a criminal when one's own life was at stake?

Anakin guessed there was nothing to complain about - their spinelessness would be his saviour.

He took his time as steam and smoke continued to fog his vision, slowly taking the steps descending into the escape pod bay. He rolled his commander friend out into one pod and cast it out into space; looking around him, he saw seven further unused escape pods.

A dark malice overcame him suddenly and, hearing men tearing down the stairs from above, he closed his eyes and commanded the Force to jettison them all but one. And into here, he leapt, leaving the ship and all the remaining crew to the will of the Force.

There was a dull thud in the ensuing minutes as the ship exploded and it sent seismic waves crashing into the edge of his pod. After a few moments of silence, where everything suddenly sank in and he wondered if he was even near enough a planet to be able to survive, he felt a further jolt wrestle his pod. Then, he was drawn up, into the darkness of another ship's hull.

His heart pounded. His first thought turned to pirates, who often pulled off tricks like this, sometimes even just to amuse themselves. The hatch opened before him and, tentatively, he climbed out. He saw the other pod next to him, open and revealing the unfortunate soldier he'd rescued. There were a few other pods, too, but their inhabitants seem not to have been fortunate enough to keep their lives; they lay dead on the floor.

Anakin swallowed, looking again to Piett to see if he was yet still alive. As he reached into the corresponding pod to check the man's pulse, though, he felt a waft of the Force course over him from behind. His very core turned cold, yet he wasn't afraid. Leaving Piett, he straightened up and slowly turned. And then he smiled and bowed.

---

Obi-Wan hung out from the deck of one of his Republic Battleships as they scoured the land of Chandrilla from the air. Lush, green fields and pasture land rolled out beneath them, with lakes and forests dotted her and there.

Kenobi's gaze tightened and he licked his lip; something was clearly not right.

"There's nothing here, sir," a Clone Trooper from behind said.

Obi-Wan glanced at him, "There is, captain. We just haven't found it yet."

"We've been searching for hours, sir."

"Yes, but the planet would not send out a cry for help if it truly wasn't overrun."

"Scanners pick up nothing."

"Then we must think of why that is."

"We've scoured the grounds as far as we can."

Obi sighed and, suddenly, a thought occurred to him; "But the air…?" he whispered.

As though on cue, a shadow overcast the platoon. Kenobi's eyes turned right just in time to see the first of his Cruisers go down with a bang, hit from above. Rather than waste his breath on cursing, he simply looked up and, through the clouds, could just make out the form of some monstrous vessel, a huge, monolithic tower of metal, sailing above them through the air.

"What the--?" the Clone captain gasped before, returning immediately to the task at hand, he turned about and rallied his troops.

Obi-Wan shook his head - there was no cuss in any language he knew big enough for this monster that opposed them. Damn the Commerce Guild.

"What are your orders, sir?" the captain queried.

"Deploy the fleet - we've got to break up - and send some one-man fighters up there to see what we're dealing with. It looks like we've got an aerial assault on out hands."

"Yes, sir."

---

Piett was no stranger to strange things, nor was he unused to misfortune - it seemed to follow him around like a bad smell - and even his mother had noted, as some mothers do, that he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was no surprise that she'd been quite happy to see her little boy off to 'some military school' that 'might make him into something useful'. Whether an auxiliary soldier working in the unheard of sections of the Republic was something useful was another thing altogether, but that was beside the point.

Blinking, the unfortunate youth looked about himself, completely and utterly bewildered. There was nothing but fields before him, yellow fields that reached as far as his eye could see, shining vibrantly in the light of the equally yellow sun.

Trying to piece the puzzle back together, he turned to find himself face-to-face with some herbivorous quadruped. He yelped in shock, though the animal - the only one, it seemed, for miles about, too - was untroubled itself.

After taking a few breaths to calm himself, and realising that this shaak-like beast was more interested in the grass it was constantly chewing than anything else, he tried to do some serious thinking. He looked to the blue sky and drew his cap from his head, sighing, "Where am I?" to the galaxy at large. He was unable to remember anything except being in the Republic Freighter and talking to that peculiar young man, before he received a large knock on the head.

The cow-like thing continued to chew, placidly swishing about its tail.

Piett looked around himself once more. There was absolutely no sign of any ship wreckage, nor any sign of anyone else, or anything else (except the alien cow). He was alone, all alone. It looked like he'd just been dumped here.

"Well that's just _wonderful_," he sarcastically sighed, making himself comfortable on a grassy knoll and drawing his knees up beneath his chin. He wasn't sure how he'd explain this one to mother. If he ever found his way off this planet. Wherever he was.

---

It wasn't more than a day later when Adi Gallia was to be found rushing through the halls of the Jedi Temple like there was no tomorrow. (Occasionally, it truly did look as though there would be no tomorrow, as the state of things currently sat.) She hurried up the stairs and then zipped straight into a lift that would lead her to the top of the High Council chamber.

Finally, as the doors of the elevator slid open, she careered down the last passageway before, turning into the chamber, she skidded to a halt behind Master Yoda. The small Jedi Knight was stood staring out across Corsucant and - unable _not _to hear Adi's entrance - he slowly turned to face her; "Master Gallia," he nodded, "Urgent news you bring?"

"Yes, my Master," she panted, approaching the diminutive Jedi and kneeling before him, more in a way of respect, but also to help her recover from her sprint, "We have just… received word from the… the Republic… outpost, just beyond…"

"Calm yourself," Yoda soothed her, giving her a moment longer to recuperate.

Adi took several deep breaths and, once she felt she could string more then five words together without stopping, she began again; "We've just received word from the outpost, close to Malastare… The freighter Anakin was aboard was ambushed. It was completely destroyed! Only one survived!"

Yoda seemed, for once, taken aback; very little surprised him these days, but this had come as a shock. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Master Yoda," Adi went on, "It wasn't Anakin who survived…"

Yoda closed his eyes, still remaining silent.

"We knew this might happen - it had to be the Separatists! They plotted this all along!" She shook her head, "I can't believe he's… that he's gone. He was the Chosen One! What have we done? Oh, Master Yoda, what have we done?"

"Dead he is not," Yoda swiftly replied, "Only gone has he."

"But Master Yoda," Adi wheezed, "None survived but a low-level commander, picked up on Dantooine! How can he -?"

"Know of the Chosen One's death, I would," Yoda further insisted, "Not dead is he."

Gallia looked completely confused, "Then what's going on, Master? Where is he?"

Yoda began to pace away, his tiny cane tapping its way across the floor; "All planned, this was, but by whom and what, much harder to answer, it is. Just believe Anakin lives, I do."

Adi shook her head, unable to tap into the Force as extensively as Yoda could. He left her utterly in awe; "I really don't understand, Master Yoda."

"Meant to understand, we are not," Yoda sighed, "The Sith Master's desire, this is. Again has he evaded us. Again has he won the battle."

"Then where is Anakin? The entire Republic will believe he's dead - they won't take our word for it!"

"Know this, I do." And what Yoda left unsaid was, _'Know this, the Sith Master does'._

"Then what shall we tell the Republic?" Adi went on.

Yoda shook his head, "Nothing for us to tell them, there is. Better for us, their ignorance may be."

Adi sighed, nodding slowly and getting back to her feet, her bright eyes dull and her posture dejected; "As you say, Master Yoda," she nodded, and slowly paced away.

Yoda shook his head once again; the times were so dark, the Force so clouded, and he could do little to inspire hope in his underlings. What had happened out in the cosmos was the undertaking of the Sith, he had no doubt, and he was positive that Anakin lived still. Yet this fact disturbed him much more than anything else, for it only meant trouble in his eyes. There was still time to remedy these events, but that time was growing less, and the opportunity had almost disappeared. He feared that the first stage of the game between the Jedi and the Sith was almost over - and the Jedi were not to be the victors.

---

"This doesn't strike me as Alderaan."

"I've said it before and I shall say it again - your powers of observation are astounding, my lady."

Padmé stepped out of the solar sailor onto the rocky surface of some unknown world. Large, metallic towers loomed on the horizon and a belt of asteroids filled the star-ridden sky.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around her with unease, feeling suddenly cut off from the galaxy and civilisation.

"I have a friend to engage here. He has been waiting long for my call," Serenn replied, following her out the craft and leading the way ahead.

Padmé could see that they had entered some kind of gravitational field for, all around them, small rocks floated off the ground, bouncing against some invisible shield away from the landing platform. There was a whining sound in the distance, one that grew ever stronger until, in a shallow gorge, not far away, Padmé saw what she recognised as pod racers tear by; and she knew then that this was no Republican world, if it be a 'world' at all.

"Where are we?" she repeated, holding her ground and glaring at the back of the count.

He turned and gave her a brief glance, "The Asteroid Oovo IX," he replied.

She blinked, "Where?"

"Exactly."

He continued on his way and she was forced to follow, more bewildered than ever. They seemed to be heading for a small civilisation in the distance, a mere cluster of bland, faceless buildings, made of metal and permacrete. It looked eerie.

The barren terrain crunched beneath their feet as they went, and it wasn't long before they reached the settlement and climbed a flight of grey, stone steps into a large, plain tower-like structure. Once they crossed the threshold, Padmé had to blink, for they were in a tall, narrow hallway, lit with bright, clinical lighting. It was cold and silent in here, and the walls were covered in nothing but panels of white. There were no doors and no decoration.

"What kind of person lives in a place like this?" she muttered, half to herself, half to Dooku.

"You shall see," Serenn said from in front, "You shall soon see."

Padmé wasn't comforted by that thought. They eventually emerged from the lengthy hallway and entered into another corridor, but this one was tunnel-like and transparent, the outside world free to view from within. Strange electrical currents of a purple hue surged along its upper surface, looking something akin to the open power couplings in the industrial district of Coruscant, and below, one could only see a deep, dark drop into a bottomless cavern.

This corridor led into another grey, cold hall, and finally, they took a left turn and entered a small antechamber. Serenn turned to Padmé and gestured at a block at the edge of the otherwise empty room; "Take a seat," he said.

She countered with a brief scowl, but did as was told, and watched as the Count swept out of the room into the further chamber beyond. For several long and agonising minutes she sat alone in this void, her mind playing tricks on her, and her ears straining to pick up the slightest sound. She was so much on alert that the smallest noise made her jump and made her loathe to see the horror that Serenn had gone to find behind the door.

Finally, when Padmé was beginning to feel that she might drown in the flood of her own insecurities, the door opened, and Dooku stalked back through. He turned to Padmé, a sombre look on his face, and then, out from behind him, a creature just as tall, yet much more frightening, marched out and stood erect to his side.

Padmé involuntarily staggered to her feet, hugging the wall behind as this 'thing' set its eyes on her. Its yellow, reptilian pupils glared right through her and shook her to the core. This creature was the most dreadful thing she had ever seen, worse than any monster her imagination could ever have conjured; cloaked in a ghostly white, and looking out to her as though from a skull, it seemed the very embodiment of Death.

"Padmé, I would like to introduce my friend here to you," Serenn said, closing the door and gesturing to the beast, "This is General Grievous."

The creature cocked its head in what Padmé took to be a salutation, its joints clicking into place as it moved. She could only swallow in return, astounded by the mere fact that it had both a name_ and _a title.

"General Grievous," Dooku went on, gesturing to Padmé now, "This is Senator Amidala of Naboo. You have heard of her, no doubt?"

The white spectre advanced on Padmé until he, it, or whatever it was, was within close range. Then, from beneath the folds of its flowing cloak, one that served to hide the body beneath more than anything, it extended a skeletal, metallic claw, and offered it to the senator; "A pleasure, my lady," he said.

It's voice was terrible. It had the same affect as its eyes, sending a sensation through one as though it had scrutinized and inspected every facet of your very soul.

She felt her limbs shake as, little by little, she stretched out her hand in return and placed it into its cold palm. Its grip was vice-like as it closed its claws about her hand and gently shook it.

"The General shall be aiding us on the more 'physical' side of the war, shan't you, General?" Serenn went on.

"Yes, your grace."

Padmé drew her hand away swiftly as soon as the beast let go; she couldn't work out what it was. It had living eyes - oh they were horrid - but its body seemed to be made of metal, and metal alone. It was a thing of both worlds, a machine and, possibly, some kind of man.

"He is a skilled warrior," Dooku added, pacing to Padmé's side, "The Jedi shall not long last against him."

Padmé thought the creature snickered, but, as she looked at him, she guessed her imagination may have construed it. The General bowed his head as soon as he noticed Padmé's gaze upon him, and she felt, for some reason, that he were ridiculing her, the gesture seeming curt and abrupt. The very notion that this thing had the capacity to mock, though, seemed in itself rather ludicrous, and yet she feared that he truly did have the capacity for this, and much more…

"You have fought Jedi before?" she eventually asked him.

It straightened up, every joint again clicking and whirring into place as it raised its mantis-like body to as tall as the count, then extending to be even taller; "No, my lady," it hissed, "But I can use their weapons well."

She looked to Dooku who seemed not to doubt this; "You have never seen anything like General Grievous before," he affirmed, a dark tenor to his voice, "_No one_ has."

'And I pray I never do again' Padmé found herself thinking, neglecting to see the depth of resolve that had only this minute burned steadily in the depths of Dooku's eyes.

**TBC…**

**---**

**Author's Notes #2: Right, after a long game of mental ping-pong, with ideas going back and forth in my mind, I resolved to use General Grievous. I said I didn't want to be inspired by Episode III, but Grievous seems too good an opportunity to miss. Right now, I'm desperate to keep this tale moving, and by inserting Grievous here, I've found that I can make my tale work better and swifter than without. Hopefully, it'll all come off. It's my story, so if I mess it up, then I've only got myself to blame. I really want to get this done and do it satisfactorily, as well. I'm guessing you guys'll tell me either way. **


	34. All's Fair in Love and War

**NB:** As of Chapter 33: _Star Wars - R - English - Angst/Drama - Chapters: 33 - Words: 140027 _**(Bloody Hell!!)**_- Reviews: 209 - Updated: 11-6-04 - Published: 1-25-03_

(Stupidly Long) **Author's Notes:** Whoops… I didn't mean to be antisocial last chapter and not reply to all your reviews, I just forgot! I'll make up for it here.And, my God, would you believe that "Eclipse" has topped 200 reviews?! Wow - I bow down at your feet, readers - how on Earth have you managed to keep reading this long? Heh - thank you so much, I couldn't have got this far without you!

I wanted to wait to publish this chapter because I wanted to do the impossible and publish not two, not three, but **four **chapters all at once! But… well, I had to make do with **three **because the fourth one's proving problematic. I spent four hours last night and another three this morning perfecting these, so I hope they're all right. Anyway this can be my Christmas present to you all - **Merry Christmas!** - but you have permission to 'unwrap' this one before Xmas morning! Things are getting... 'messy'... in the story now. If that's the right word. It looks tame after what's gone before, though. ;) Heh.

And, on a side note, I fell into a plot hole in my last chapter, so, please note, _Chandrilla _is overrun by the _Commerce Guild_, whilst _Yavin _is overrun by the _Corporate Alliance_. Sorry about that! I guess some of you might not have noticed the change anyway, but I thought I ought to let you know.

**Voldemort8:** Well, it's refreshing to pick up some new readers at this late stage! I'm glad you found my story compelling enough to read it all through so far. Incidentally, if you've found any plot holes or inconsistencies along the way, let me know! I do sometimes forget what I've written, I've been going for so long now. "Eclipse" will be two years old in January, believe it or not.

**Kathy:** Thank you, as ever. I appreciate the support!

**Capricorn Lamia:** Wow, another new reader! And thank you for your comment - I'm so glad my twisted tale's proving to entertain you. As far as Episode III influences go, I'm trying not to incorporate much of it - Grievous is my allowance, but I really want to get this all done before RotS is released. It's going to be my own, alternate bridge between AotC and aNH.

**Silverwolf47:** I never intended to use Piett, but he just popped into my head at that moment and I thought 'why not?' Glad you liked his 'cameo'. Watch out for a few more in future.

**Kynstar:** My thanks for your further support. People seem to be enjoying Grievous - that's great! I'm glad I added him. We won't be seeing poor Anakin for a while, but you might not feel very merciful toward him when we do finally come across him again. --_drops hint accidentally--_ Oops.

**Padawanmage:** Ugh… my mistake on the last chapter! I meant to put those two scenes in reverse order. God knows how I managed that cock-up. I concentrate too much on grammar and spellings and what-not sometimes, when I read through, and forget what I'm actually reading! Thanks for spotting that - no one else did. And you got the offending craft at Chandrilla in one. Well done.

**Audreidi:** Long term planner? Yeah, yeah, I'm… a …a very _good_ long term planner! --_looks unsure about that--_ Erm… yeah. Anyway, RE: Part 32, Dooku's impudence was there for a reason, and Sidious was almost 'pandering' to it for a reason, too. As regards Part 33, Piett was a last minute addition - my brain's good at occasional randomness. And university's going fine, thanks. It does mean I'm very busy and have less time for "Eclipse" than I'd like, but that's life, right?

**Turtleninja:** Have we met before? All these reviewers… I feel so privileged! And don't do too much drooling, now. I'm sure there are more constructive things you can do whilst you wait for updates.

**Leela74:** Thank you! Hope this update is soon enough.

**ms8309:** Here's your 'more'.

**Cmdr. Gabe E:** Yours must be the most excitable reviews I get! LOL. I'm glad you noticed the direction Dooku's feelings are taking. It's an important part of the story. Just keep it in mind.

**Dark Poetic:** Thank you for reading - no need to thank me for updating! Glad you liked the 'Amidala clan' talk with Dooku. I don't know where that came from, but I enjoyed writing it.

**Infamous One:** It's true stories take on a life of their own - this one sure has! I can't believe how long it is, actually... some novels aren't this long. I hope I can tie it up neatly in the end, though - that's going to be the biggest challenge! I bet I'll forget about someone or something...

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 34**

The committee of Confederacy leaders always seemed to have a jumpy and sycophantic edge about them, Padmé thought, as she again studied them all via hologram on Oovo IX. The circle was smaller than before, San Hill's space being markedly empty, signifying not just his death, but the Banking Clan's flight from Count Dooku's movement. Their loss wasn't anything great to the Separatists by any means, though, and, after their secessionist stint, there'd be little chance of the Republic looking to their services soon, either. The Banking Clan had, in a sense, nullified their part in the war and were consequently no threat to anyone but themselves.

Sat at the head of the table, overlooking his lackeys, was Serenn himself. He had his hand over his mouth and was absent-mindedly running a finger over part of his beard. Meanwhile, the nervy lackeys were all eyeing up the white apparition stood over Dooku's left shoulder, whilst Padmé stood to his right, in an equal state of anxiety. In fact, the Count seemed to be the only one unaffected by the presence of that ghostly monstrosity called Grievous.

After a while, Senator Tikkes made a polite cough and drew Serenn's attention back to the present; eyeing the group over one more time, each assembled round the table via hologram alone, Dooku lowered his hand onto the tabletop and leant forward; "Yes, thank you for your reports," he said quietly, concluding the first half of the session, "And I must congratulate you all so far on the successful initiation of our battle strategies… yet it is not enough." He sat back again, and, wafting a hand casually toward Grievous, said, "You may notice a fellow stood by my shoulder, here."

The gatherings' collective fidgets and shudders all but demonstrated that they couldn't help but notice the deathly horror.

"This is General Grievous," Dooku went on, "A friend of mine."

Grievous' yellow eyes scanned the gathering, his very glance causing each member of the Confederate circle to shrink down into their chairs.

"He will be aiding us on the battle front. His focus will be on the nucleus that currently holds the Republic army together. His focus will be on the Jedi."

Still, the General said nothing. With his appearance setting off such discomfort, there was no need for him to add his voice to the scenario. It would only deepen their fear.

Serenn still seemed relatively uninterested, his eyes betraying to the few astute enough that his mind might be elsewhere; "Continue with current tactics," he drawled on, "I will send the General wherever I see fit. This will be a blow for the Republic. Their war will not soon be over."

Gunray was rubbing his hands together with his usual air of panic - he hated it when new players were placed on the board. He didn't need to be reminded of what happened after Lord Sidious threw Darth Maul into play, over a decade ago. He prayed the same doom wouldn't follow this General Grievous around. More than that, even, he prayed that he would not have to host the white abomination.

"Any questions?" Serenn added after a long, lethargic pause.

The group seemed eager to escape the creature's presence, and no one raised their voice.

Serenn gave them a moment, his brow rising ever so steadily, until he'd raised it as far as it could go; "No?" he said, looking amongst them.

They looked squirmy, like school children waiting for the home time bell to ring.

The Count shrugged. "Very well. Dismissed, ladies and gentlemen."

The room went dull as all the holograms faded to nothingness. Serenn remained in his chair, his hand returning to his beard for a moment and his mind returning to his thoughts.

Padmé shifted uneasily on her feet and slipped a glance at Grievous, who somehow managed to turn his eyes at precisely the right moment so as to meet hers head on, causing her a further jolt of disquiet.

"General," Serenn said at length.

Grievous turned his eyes from Padmé. "Yes, your grace?" he hissed in his cool, unearthly voice.

Dooku still stared ahead. "As you just heard, the Corporate Alliance have reported that there is a Jedi Master leading the Republic on their front. I know this man shall test your skills, so I shall be sending you to Yavin. You approve?"

The General bowed. "Absolutely, your grace."

"But before you go," Serenn added, "I will talk with you. Alone. In your own time, mind."

Grievous gave Padmé one final glance, his eyes oozing of distaste toward her, before he swept down into another bow. "I shall wait outside, your grace," he said, then was gone.

Padmé remained mute, left alone with the Count in the board room. The silence was intolerable.

"He doesn't like me," she whispered.

"Hmm?" Serenn murmured, his mind still wandering.

"Your General," Padmé continued sternly, walking slowly around the table and taking a seat where Gunray had recently 'sat', "He doesn't like me."

Serenn watched her for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the tabletop. "Do you want him to like you?"

Padmé wasn't expecting him to play with her; "Don't be obtuse," she murmured.

He blinked, smirking briefly, before looking away.

"I don't understand," she went on, changing course, "You were once a Jedi, and yet you send this monster out to destroy them. What do you hope to accomplish by all this barbarity?"

The Count continued to stare into a dark corner, fingers still rapping the tabletop; "I was once a Jedi," he nodded slowly, "Yes, indeed. I do seem to remember that they had the choice to side with my movement, yet they chose Palpatine over me." He shrugged lazily. "It is their choice."

Again, the thought crossed Padmé's mind as to how a man of Qui-Gon Jinn's kindly, though reckless, disposition had been borne from the tuition of Count Dooku; "Perhaps they think you are the Sith," she resolved crossly.

A frown creased his brow and he turned his dark eyes upon her. "You think so?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Well, they wouldn't be likely to side with you if they thought that."

He continued to stare. "No, they wouldn't," he agreed, before resuming his silence.

Padmé began to get uncomfortable; "Are we going to go to Alderaan then, or what?"

Serenn sighed and rose from his seat, seeming to ponder on this as though it were of no great magnitude; "Yes, I believe so," he resolved, "General Grievous will soon have made his presence known, then we will surely not be missed." He swept his cloak out behind him and began to pace out of the chamber; Padmé remained where she sat for a moment, thinking carefully.

The Count suddenly halted in the doorway and looked back to the Nubian's solitary figure. "Do you think I'm a Sith Lord, Padmé?" he asked.

Padmé frowned and arched her head about to look at him as he stood silhouetted in the doorway. She dithered for a moment before, shrugging a little, she replied, "I don't know."

"Don't you?" Serenn countered, "You don't know whether I am a Sith Lord or not, or you don't know whether you made the remark in too much haste, or not?"

She glared at him. "A bit of both."

He smirked, but it was an empty one; "I thought so."

Padmé turned away again and sighed, whilst Serenn closed the door behind him and left the room. Outside, he walked across the darkened corridor, traversing the shiny, black metal floor, until he reached Grievous' solitary figure. The Droid General was stood alone, patiently waiting for the Count in the shade. With a nod ahead, Serenn gestured for the General to follow him, and the white spectre did as he was bid.

"She doesn't like me," Grievous said, then chuckled to himself.

"Yes, she has just told me such…" Serenn replied, "At least, in so many words."

"And yet she trusts you."

Dooku shook his head. "I think not."

"She does. I can read humans like books."

Serenn snuffed, then said, "I have not asked you to wait behind merely to discuss Senator Amidala and her peculiarities."

Grievous allowed himself another snigger, before he then assumed a more serious demeanour. "Then speak, Count Dooku," he said.

Serenn clasped his hands at the small of his back. "I can no longer read the Republic as I once could," he confessed, "I do not know where the Sith Master's next move will be."

"And this is of importance?"

"General, if I fall, I want you to continue in my place. Is that understood?"

The General halted and blinked at Dooku, yellow eyes glaring through the darkness. "You cannot read the Republic yet you can read the coming of your own death? What grounds do you have upon which to make this assumption?"

Serenn stared back at him. "Trust me."

Grievous' silence said more than words would have. And Dooku noticed this; "Speak up, General," he insisted, "You have something more to say?"

Grievous' eyes regarded the Count circumspectly. "Yes. I know that you are not telling me something."

"Am I not?"

"You know something," Grievous continued, "You would not prophesise your doom otherwise. I know you, Count Dooku. I fear you forget that."

"You are not here to ask questions."

"No, your grace. Nor are you here to sacrifice yourself."

Dooku's brow arched. "What do you mean by that?"

"You can only predict your doom if you await your own sacrifice," the General elaborated, "You know that you must die. You are not telling me how you know, you are just telling me to be prepared for when you do."

"You are an amazing creature, General."

"You are the leader of an army. You cannot give up. It is weak."

"I am a human. Weakness is a default trait."

"It is weak to give your life up for such a trivial thing. You should never give up just for --."

"Just for _what_?" Serenn barked.

Grievous blinked slowly, but he did not yield a reply; Serenn could read it in his eyes, though. "Will you not speak now, General?" he murmured.

Grievous continued to stare - neither Serenn's eyes, nor his daunting voice, could make him falter; "There is no need," the General answered, "You know my mind."

Serenn glared at him a moment longer before he nodded in concurrence. "Indeed I do." He turned away and began to pace down the corridor. "I trust you to do my bidding, General. You shall not fail me, regardless of my future choices and fate, now, shall you?" The Count then glanced back over his shoulder, and saw Grievous stood where he had been left, shrouded in darkness.

"I shall not fail you, your grace," the General replied at length, "no matter what you choose to do, or what fate befalls you. I shall honour you in life and - should the situation arise - death also, and I shall wipe the smile from the Republic's face. I shall run their Jedi into the dirt; I shall break their fractured hierarchy, and I shall institute the Confederacy's policies. You have my word, whether or not I have your companionship."

Serenn nodded, satisfied by this little speech. "Thank you, General," he said, before he paused for a moment and thought things over again.

As this moment drew out into nothing but silence, Grievous took it as his key to depart, and was just about to turn and go when, suddenly, Dooku called out, "Oh, and General?"

Grievous turned to Serenn for one final time. "Your grace?"

"There is one more thing," the Count said, "A Jedi, named Master Kenobi…"

And Grievous listened.

---

"First the clone brat, now this."

Boba gave Argente a passing glare, one that might have stun had the magistrate not been immune to it by now.

"Now what?" Boba asked, sat on the floor in the control room of Argente's control ship, whilst the Corporate Alliance's magistrate and his ever-present aide debated recent events.

"'Now what, _sir'_, don't you mean?" Passel countered.

"I mean what I say," Boba rallied.

Argente wafted a hand at him. "I have just received word that we are going to have a visitor."

"Count Dooku?" Boba guessed.

"Don't be absurd."

Young Fett shrugged. "Who then?"

"A General," Purple interjected.

Boba was unimpressed. "General?"

"Yes," Argente continued as his aide nodded vigorously by his side, "A General."

Fett looked between the two and got to his feet. "What's he gonna be doing?"

"Helping the battledroids down on Yavin. If he's as good as I think he is, we should be able to set up camp down there in no time."

Boba rose an eyebrow - things might finally be getting interesting.

---

The fleet at Chandrilla broke up and circled round before they began to gain altitude, heading for the zenith of the great monolith above. As the cloud withered around them, Obi-Wan could see it clearly for the first time - a great, brown pillar of metal, hovering on the largest repulsorlift engines he had ever seen. It seemed to have few gun turrets, and none that would impede the shell of the Republic cruisers, yet something told Obi-Wan that it must have some kind of weapon, some means of 'offence'. He wasn't sure he wanted to hang around to find out what this was, however.

He watched the one man fighters zip ahead and fly over the top of the enemy, and Obi-Wan knew then where he wanted to be; "Get me a fighter," he said.

"There's a craft waiting for you back at the fleet," the captain reported.

Kenobi gave him a cynical look; "It's not much good there, captain."

"Shall I get someone to fly it down here for you, sir?"

Kenobi's look lingered; "Yes, if you would."

Captain saluted, oblivious. "Yessir!"

Obi heaved a great sigh, gripping the handrail above as they encountered a blast of turbulence; he was beginning to miss Jedi companionship already. First there'd been Master Jinn, then young Anakin… and now he was alone, quite alone, with these one-dimensional soldiers.

---

"So, we first find a planet lost from your archives, we then find clones produced from a now deceased bounty hunter on said planet, and we furthermore discover droid foundries on Geonosis. Now, we seem to have gone one step further in this web of absurdity and…aha… _lost _the Chosen One."

Master Yoda stared up at the ranting Supreme Chancellor who, despite his little laugh, was far from merry. The man looked paler than usual, the strains of office seeming to be taking their toll, and this development in the plot, this 'losing' of Anakin, didn't please him in the slightest.

Palpatine gave himself a moment to calm, then, turning his blue eyes on the diminutive Jedi, he continued, "Whatever next I wonder, Master Yoda?"

Yoda's green eyes looked deep into the Chancellor's; "Blaming the Jedi you are, Chancellor. But our fault far from is this."

The Chancellor's brow knotted. "I beg your pardon?"

"Blaming the Jedi for young Skywalker's loss, you are. But our fault, it is not." Yoda sighed, clasping his tiny hands over the curve of his walking stick; "Not our wish was it for Skywalker to be exiled. Not our doing was it to send him out there."

Palpatine's face went sour quite quickly and he withdrew across his office. "So it is my fault, is it?" he asked plainly, "It's my fault the boy was killed?"

Yoda looked down, knowing full well that Anakin wasn't dead. It was no use telling the Chancellor that, though; he would not believe him unless he saw the boy stood back at his feet. "Your fault, it is not," Yoda went on, selecting his words with care, "But your decision to exile him, it was."

The Chancellor favoured Yoda with another acid look; "Is it my fault that I wanted to be lenient with the lad? Is it my fault that I saved him where he might otherwise have died? Well, it's clearly too late for that now, but my intentions were good, Master Yoda. They were sympathetic." He sighed and clasped his hands nervously at the small of his back; "He'd been through so much. Torn from slavery, I was told, then suddenly raised in a world of formality so different to that which he would have known with his parents, that it must have been quite bewildering." The Chancellor paused, backtracking slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry - I should have said _parent_. The boy was of quite miraculous birth, was he not?"

Yoda had meanwhile been staring at the floor, listening to the Chancellor's words assiduously and trying to pick the good out from the bad, the ripe from the stale. He found the task impossible, however, for so similar did all his words seem. Yet Yoda could sense a slight discrepancy in them. He couldn't put his finger on the exact nature of this 'irregularity', though.

"Master Yoda?" the Chancellor pushed on as Yoda's reverie continued, unchecked.

Yoda's ears cocked and he glanced back to the Chancellor; "A miraculous boy, he was. Correct you are, Chancellor."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed for but a fraction of a second - so briefly, in fact, that only a Jedi of Yoda's skill would have managed to detect it; "There are those who would have me abandon you, Master Yoda," Palpatine said, "And I say 'you' as meaning the collective of Jedi. Did you know this?"

Yoda left a prolonged pause before he responded again. "Gathered as much, I have," he professed.

Palpatine nodded, "Yes. And I cannot hold off against my democracy forever. If enough people want something, then they will press to have it. There will always be scapegoats. I have no power to change the nature of our sentient races." He turned his back on Yoda and looked out across his dominion. "Good day to you, Master Yoda."

Yoda stared for a moment at the Chancellor's back before he turned and hobbled away.

---

Padmé had been thinking for a long time, sat alone in that board room. By the time she came back to herself, the hour was late and she was utterly alone. The corridors and halls of Grievous' clinical residence were empty, and as she made her way through them, she was accompanied by little but her echo and her overactive imagination. She was hoping she could find her way back to Count Dooku without tripping over this General of his; the Force alone knew where Serenn had picked up that monster - he'd obviously been keeping him hidden, waiting for the perfect moment to play him in this game of war.

After taking turning after turning, and becoming uncomfortably reminded of the labyrinth of Serenn's manor home, she finally found the man himself; he was writing something at a desk in a small office he'd made his own. He didn't look up as she entered, either meaning that he hadn't heard her or chose not to.

She halted right before him and planted her hands out on his desk. "I want to talk to you," she said.

Serenn didn't hurry to finish his sentence, but as soon as he had, he dropped his pen, sat back and made eye contact with her; "Then talk," he said, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his knee.

"There's no structure to your plans," she blurted out, "They seem to me to be an utter waste of time."

"I see."

"And this… 'General' of yours. Seriously, how is he going to help matters? I've no doubt that he'll only make things worse."

The Count glanced at his hands then back to her as she moved round the desk toward him.

"I gave up so much for this cursèd movement," she reminded him, "Can't I please have a say in things?"

He stared at her for a moment then rose to his feet. "Sit," he insisted, gesturing back at his chair whilst he leant back on his desk. Padmé indeed took his seat and then looked up at him.

"Now talk," Serenn went on.

She paused for a minute, wondering where to start; "These tactics," she said, "Unless I'm wrong, how is this progressive 'take and conquer' method going to work? Most of these planets you've sent your armies to are far too dispersed to be of any military advantage, conquered or no."

He nodded slowly.

"Tell me the method in your madness. It's almost as though you _want _to draw this war out. It'll drain your coffers, if nothing else…"

He rubbed his beard for a moment and stared at the ceiling. "Yes, I see your point," he agreed, "But if you consider the positions of the planets currently under invasion and/or occupation, you shall see a fine noose appearing. One I will tighten in time."

Padmé sat back in the comfy chair and drew her knees up to her chest. "You know how long that will take?"

"I do indeed."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Why?" Padmé asked at length, "Why go for such a roundabout tactic?"

Serenn cleared the desk behind him and hoisted himself onto its edge, letting his legs hang down the front. "Why not?"

"There are other ways."

"Says the pacifist."

"I'm not talking about diplomacy any more!" she snapped, "I can see that we're not going to get anywhere with that."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes."

"What would you suggest, then?"

She paused for a second, chewing on her lip. "I was thinking, maybe…"

Serenn waited on her. "Maybe…?"

"Maybe we should just strike at the heart, all at once? If we take the Chancellor, we can end this war now, before more lives are lost."

A smile steadily rose on Serenn's face. "You know," he said, "I never thought, until this moment, that you truly were the same person as the audacious Queen, who struck back at the heart of the Federation's blockade on Naboo, those ten years ago - and won against outrageous odds, might I add." He favoured her with a charming glance. "I can see now that it was indeed you."

Padmé had to lower her head - she didn't know why, but she felt flattered somewhat by his comment.

"So," Serenn went on, breaking the uneasy lull, "You'd have me gather all my forces, leave my outer garrisons relatively unprotected - those that I have so far, at least - and take a risky shot at usurping the Chancellor from the capital, the hub of the Republic's territory?"

She blinked as he made eye contact again and just shrugged. "Why not?"

He laughed now, but in a nice way, a way she hadn't heard him laugh before; "'Why not', indeed?" he countered mildly, folding his arms and biting down on his lip as he thought it all over.

She sighed, presuming that he wasn't going to take her seriously; "I knew I'd be wasting my breath on you," she muttered. She got up and made to leave, but suddenly, his hand took a hold of her arm before she could walk away. She looked at him uncertainly, but did not resist, as he drew her closer and rotated her so that she squarely faced him.

"So, you are going?" he asked her.

She frowned, confused. "Yes…?" she said, not sure whether she was questioning him or herself.

"But with no word?"

Padmé thought that this was strange talk, even on Dooku's part; "Do you want one?" she asked, perplexed.

"Just a notification of your intention to depart would be polite," he said.

She smiled a little, shaking her head at this eccentric conduct.

"How is your shoulder?" he then asked quietly, running his hand up to where he had not long ago inflicted the savage wound.

Padmé had almost forgotten about it, if she were honest; "It's fine," she said, regarding his hand cagily and finding that her voice was catching in her throat, stumbling over unseen obstacles.

He nodded again, looking downward, but didn't seem about to let her go.

She made another quiet sigh and gently peeled his hand from her arm, noticing, as she moved it away, that the gash recently inflicted there was healing well; "That looks better," she said without thinking.

The look he next gave her told her that he was surprised she'd care to make such a remark, and Padmé was surprised, too. She shook her head as she felt her cheeks flush and dropped his hand by his side. "Sorry," she muttered.

"For what?"

"Nothing…" she said. His brown eyes had that smouldering look about them now, one Padmé wished they hadn't. She felt as though drawn into a trance, and despite the fact that she could feel his hand as it came to rest on her hip, she didn't think about it, nor did she think about it as he further drew her closer to him and held her lightly between his knees, her legs brushing intimately against his inner thighs.

She stared into his face for a while, letting her eyes wander and take in all the features of his visage, until, slowly but surely, she began to raise her hand, stretching it tentatively out toward him…

But there was then a sudden creak from the doorway.

Swiftly, both Serenn and Padmé recoiled from one another and, eyes darting, fixed their gazes on the intruder. Grievous now stood there, across the threshold, silhouetted with a thin film of light, his catlike eyes shining down on them through the darkness.

Reality fell back with a dull clunk, and Padmé glanced at Dooku, before then she backed away from him, hanging her head, and rushed out of the room, past Grievous.

Grievous watched her go then glared at the Count.

Dooku heaved a sigh and, sliding off the desk, turned to the General with a raised hand. "Don't say anything," he growled, "I damn well know it was wrong."

Grievous drew a mechanical, inward breath, then turned and left.

---

Back in the skies above Chandrilla, Kenobi's ship finally reached the Republic cruiser. Obi-Wan exchanged places with the pilot, vaulting into his craft, before setting off at speed for the great ship of the Commerce Guild, now hovering just below. He thrust his headset onto his mantle and set his blue eyes on this oversized 'thing', his enemy. He had no idea how he'd topple this beast, but all things had a weakness.

Swerving the steering vane to the left, he took his craft in a sweeping arc by the vessel's flank.

Glancing out of the cockpit, he watched as endless amounts of his own fighter pilots took runs at the ship, let loose tremendous volleys of fire, only to find themselves making little more than a slight dent on its surface. The thick metal hide of the monster was impenetrable, so far as Obi could tell - at least, by laser fire.

His eyes sparkled - perhaps not by laser fire, but there was always a superior weapon. And it hung by his side.

"Captain," he spoke into his headset.

"Yessir?"

"I need as many men as possible to draw fire away from this thing's southern side. I've got a plan."

"Right, general. I'll do my best"

Kenobi nodded. "You do that, captain."

---

There was no wind out on the landing platforms of Oovo IX. (There wouldn't even be an atmosphere if man - and various other species - hadn't chosen to settle there; but that was another story.) Therefore, Grievous' cloak did not flutter in any breeze as he stared up into the cosmos; there were no clouds in the sky to hinder any sun, nor any sun to hinder his vision. The General liked artificial life. It was convenient.

"Count Dooku," he said, knowing the man was now stood behind him.

"General."

"I was not under the impression I would see you again before I left."

Dooku did not answer straight away.

"Watch your step, Count Dooku," Grievous added shrewdly, "Do not let your emotions rule you."

"Oh, they have too long held precedence in my mind, General. It is too late to change that."

Grievous blinked, watching a shuttle descend from the heavens, coming to take him to his flagship.

The Count took a step closer to the spectre. "Remember what I have said to you, General," he added.

It didn't sound like a warning on the outside, but Grievous heard the threat, the command, the 'or else' connotations. "And will you remember what I have said to you, your grace?" he rallied.

"My mind is made up."

The droid General turned on well oiled hinges and blinked his yellow eyes at the elderly human male; "As I have seen. Then you are as weak as the rest of your human brethren."

Dooku wasn't affronted. "I know I am," he agreed quietly.

Grievous nodded. "Very well, then. I shall not try to dissuade you." He held out his thin, skeletal hand to the Count and, as Dooku placed his hand back into his grasp, the droid tightened his fingers round the man's flesh. "I should say 'may the Force be with you', Count," the General went on, shaking hands, "But I know that it will fail you."

"All's fair in love and war," Dooku replied with his usual air of mystery, withdrawing his hand and stepping back.

"Is it?" Grievous pondered, bowing to the Count one last time as the shuttle landed behind him and lowered its ramp, "I would not know about that." He then turned, entered the ship, and disappeared. The shuttle soon took off again and flew away into the cosmos, the white spectre unleashed unto the universe…

**TBC…**


	35. Quest of the Two Generals

**Author's Notes:** Obvious allusions to the "Clone Wars" 'toon here. My regards to it.

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 35**

Obi-Wan's fighter shot forward, the wind blasting over its dagger-shaped hull as it tore through the air, diving in a low arc toward the Commerce Guild's gigantic vessel. Kenobi glanced out to his left, watching as the rest of his fleet followed his orders and drew all fire away from the south wall of the ship. He then zipped under the square shape of the monolith and studied its underbelly. As he looked up into the darkness below, his eyes readjusting in the gloom of the great shadow the vessel cast, he saw its means of offence - a giant, cylindrical pillar of metal. He swallowed - once that thing was released from its lodging, it would create an indentation in the earth and send out tremors so vast it would destroy the very landscape as it was. No wonder the Chandrillans sent out their cry for help - he suspected that elsewhere over the planet, this beast had already wreaked much havoc. This was the means by which the Commerce Guild would threaten the people of the planet - they would give in or be crushed.

A fire ignited in Obi-Wan's veins, and it said 'not on my watch'. He pulled up from beneath the ship and spun back round to the south side, his target.

"Captain," he said.

"Sir?"

"Do not, I repeat, do not deploy troops onto the ground. We can't win on those terms."

"Affirmative, general."

"Continue to draw their fire away. I'm going in."

"Yes sir."

Obi blew his hair up out of his face and pushed the steering vane forward, shooting toward the vessel over again. This was the kind of stunt Anakin would be better at, he thought - and that distracted him. All of a sudden, the wall was looming, and he found that he'd left it too late to pull up! As he finally did, yanking back the steering vane with all his might, he heard his ship skim the edge of the giant, brown vessel, creating an unbearable screech, and taking off a good deal of his paintwork in the process.

He tried not to swear, but he couldn't help it. His R4 unit, meanwhile, was screaming in protest.

"Sorry, R4," he said to the droid, blinking in disbelief at his own stupidity.

"Are you all right, sir?" he heard captain's voice now ring in his ears.

"Yes, I'm all right," he murmured, "I just… lost control."

"Do you want one of my men to--?"

"No!" Kenobi interrupted, "I'll do this."

He spun his craft out, took a good circle round, and lunged once more at the gigantic ship; forward he dashed, on he went, his eyes focused and his thoughts trying to follow suit. The brown hide of the vessel came closer and closer and closer until, with a great lurch, Kenobi turned his ship, flung open the cockpit and leapt out onto the vessel's side. R4 took over and flew the starfighter away whilst Obi clung onto the wall of this metallic mountain, fumbling for his lightsabre as the air tossed through his hair and robes. It was freezing cold up here (and it was a very long fall to the ground, Obi found the voice in his head reminding him); his fingers did their best to hang on as he got his lightsabre out and shifted his body into position. Aiming the projector plate into the ship, he pressed the activation button and set loose his blade. The blue beam shot through the metal with a shrieking sound, as though the ship had suddenly taken on a life of its own and was protesting against such treatment, and Obi had to step back a little as drops of molten metal began to slink down toward his precariously-balanced feet.

He remembered how his master, Qui-Gon, had used this stunt to try and get onto the bridge of the Federation starship a decade back. He just hoped that this exploit would prove at least more fruitful. Satisfied that his 'sabre was far enough through the wall now, he began to move it slowly in a circle, simultaneously aiming not to let his feet slip or his balance waver. The wind kept raging thick and fast into his body, and his fingers grew numb in the iciness of the high atmosphere, but he did not let this divert him from his mission.

Suddenly, however - and without warning - a bolt of laser fire came thundering in by his head and he had to flail at the wall in order to keep his balance.

"Captain!" he yelled into his still-present headset, "I said draw their fire _away_!"

There was no reply. Kenobi glanced back over his shoulder, clinging for dear life to the few ridges and ledges that existed on this metal wall. There was a fleet in the sky now, coming up behind his squadron, which looked measly in comparison. All Obi could see were thousands and thousands of black dots, gaining magnitude all the time, and he knew that they would have but one aim in mind - and that was to overpower his forces.

"Force…" Obi-Wan cursed and, turning back to the task at hand, tried to cut a hole in the wall as fast as he could. He knew now that he didn't have time to spare.

Then, making him jump out of his skin, his headset suddenly fizzled back to life in his ears!

"Sir? Are you still there, General?"

"Captain?" Obi shouted with an undeniable sense of relief, "Is that you?"

"Sir, the Commerce Guild seem to have acquired reinforcements."

'Really?' Kenobi frowned to himself.

"We can't give you the cover you need as well as deal with this fleet."

"Can we call in reinforcements?"

"I shall try."

"You shall not try, you shall just do it!" Kenobi found himself barking.

As his starfighters started to slip away to deal with the larger threat, he was left open to enemy fire, and he cringed as a shot skimmed his shoulder. He shook off the pain, though, and persevered, continuing with his task - he had to do this! There was a town coming into sight, and he wasn't going to risk civilians letting themselves get pulverised by this thing.

---

'This isn't right, this isn't right at all', Padmé thought as she sat back on a bed and tried to catch a bit of sleep. She rolled onto her stomach in the small, dreary dormitory, somewhere within Grievous' stronghold, and lay her head in her arms, staring blankly at the plain, grey walls.

She felt odd - that was about as far as she had come in summarising her feelings right now. It felt so long since Geonosis, so long since the assassination attempts, the frolicking over the Nubian fields, the time with Anakin… She felt like she'd been travelling and living with the Count forever. She couldn't understand herself, though - why was she now almost feeling _content_? Why was she no longer afraid? Where was the coldness and the fear? Where was the knot of disgust she had once beheld him with?

She buried her head and exhaled loudly - she just didn't know. She simply could not understand herself at all, and this troubled her greatly. All she did know was that things had changed, and it was up to her to decide on what was going to happen now. No one could make any decisions for her, and she had no one to answer to but herself.

---

Shu Mai was leader of the Commerce Guild. She was one of the few females in the Count's inner circle, but she felt this to be of little importance. You became genderless when you entered these sort of things. She sat in relative comfort in the capital of Chandrilla, tapping her thin fingers on a marble tabletop within the Council chambers. The political leaders of the planet were meanwhile held at gun point before her, both the prime minister and the planet's senator, one Mon Mothma.

The planet was becoming rather a wreck of its former self - Poggle had wrought some marvellous new mechanical beasts in his factories, one being this gigantic earth-shattering thing she simpler referred to as 'It'. Because of It, several cities had already surrendered, whilst others were being obstinate fools and basically inviting It to their doorsteps. They were to become - if they were not already - crushed, dead and buried.

And she thought this war thing would be hard.

Her small beady eyes passed between Mothma and the prime minister, taking in each of them in turn. Neither of them spoke, or even tried to speak, back to the small Commerce Guild head. They were too smart for that. Shu Mai respected this facet of their characters, if nothing else; rarely did she have the pleasure of detaining intelligent prisoners.

Another creature of the same species as her suddenly skulked into the room; he bowed to Mai then related; "The Republic are here, madam. We have engaged them at the fields, just beyond Lythe. Our reinforcements have arrived in time to join the battle."

She nodded; "Good. See to it that the Republic army is destroyed. Continue then with the operations."

The messenger bowed. "Yes, madam," he said, then left.

Mai turned her eyes back on Mothma and the PM and allowed herself a wicked smile. It was customary, after all.

---

Obi bowed his head forward as another volley of fire tore over him, pock-marking the hull. The separatist ships clearly had a greater firepower than his own if they could make such indents where his fighters could not. This was not currently his concern, however. Once the barrage had past, he continued with his work, and slowly went on cutting his circle in the ship's pelt. He was nearly there now, only a few more inches to go before he could, hopefully, get into this monstrosity and bring it to its knees.

The approaching city was coming ever closer, and Obi knew his army was getting ever smaller. He had no idea from whence the Commerce Guild had scavenged such vast reinforcements, but he wished the Republic would come up with the same for him.

Finally, with a fizzle, Obi completed cutting a circle in the thick, metal wall, and, giving it a thud with a combination of his hands and the Force, he managed to push it inward. He subsequently fell straight through with it, and rolled out onto a smooth, shiny floor, on the other side.

Shaking his windswept hair out of his eyes, he then looked up and found himself staring down the barrels of several guns, all held ready by his old friends, the battledroids.

"Ah," he said, then shot to his feet and began to take them out with his lightsabre.

One battledroid managed to scamper off to sound the alarm, however, and a whining siren soon echoed throughout the vessel's inner corridors and hallways.

As the last of the first wave of battledroids fell, Obi-Wan got a few seconds to himself. He looked around the chamber into which he'd burrowed; it was a small, simple room - a maintenance one, by the looks of things - filled with various pipes and blinking control panels. As he walked across the chamber, and then through an open doorway, he found himself on one of many walkways, surrounding the great pillar of metal housed in the ship's centre. This pillar was huge - Kenobi had never seen anything like it! - but he soon overcame the shock by reminding himself of the task at hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of more battledroids scampering toward him from the anterooms below, so he quickly went about ascending up through the many levels of passages and causeways in this vessel, aiming to reach the control room he was certain would be situated at the summit.

---

Boba didn't know what to make of this 'general' as the thing emerged, without warning, onto the bridge of the Corporate Alliance's starship. Argente nearly had a heart attack as he turned to find the tall wraith stood behind him like an overassertive shadow, and spluttered many incoherencies before he calmed himself enough to say; "Why, General, when did you get here?"

Purple had meanwhile found himself a nice niche in the corner to hide in.

"I got here just now," Grievous replied matter-of-factly, "Why do you ask such pointless questions?"

Argente's face went through several different emotions before it settled on feigned humility, and his lips rose in a forced smile. "Wonderful. I --"

"I do not care," the General interjected, wafting his large hand at the reptilian magistrate, "I have come here to… 'help' you with a Jedi Master."

"A Jedi Master…?"

Grievous snickered. "Do not play ignorant. Did you not report of a Jedi Master to his grace?"

"Well, yes…"

"Then I shall deal with him for you. Jedi are my… 'speciality'."

He said it as though it were some kind of cuisine, and this only served to heighten Boba's respect for the creature, whatever he was. The young clone child walked forward and studied the General's skeletal face, watching him as a naïve fledgling might watch a cat, unaware of the savage abilities this strange beast might hold within.

Grievous chose this point in time to swivel his head onto Boba. His eyes met the boy's and young Fett halted abruptly in his tracks, watching those wicked, feral pupils with the utmost trepidation. He had never seen anything like this before. And he did not like it.

"Who are you?" the General asked.

"Boba Fett," the boy replied.

Grievous' thin arm shot forward and took the boy's collar tightly in its grasp, wrenching the lad up off the floor as though he weighed little more than a feather. He held the child aloft, up to the light, and scrutinized him, studying his every angle and watching for the slightest signs of fear or anger. Young Fett did not struggle against the General, despite all this - he would not be weak.

"Count Dooku told me of a boy," he said at length, "You are the son of the man who gave his genetics to the army of the Republic."

Boba swallowed and at that very moment he could tell that Grievous knew he held a secret, a secret that only he and the two Sith Lords held close to their breasts.

"How did that happen?" the General continued, releasing the boy and watching him hit the deck with an uncomfortable thud. "How did you come to be with us when your father clearly served our enemies?"

Boba brushed himself off quickly and got to his feet. "I don't try to understand," he rallied, backing away from the ghostly creature.

Grievous did not move, he just watched the cowering boy until the lad had backed himself into a corner; "Wise of you," he hissed, and left the matter at that. He turned again on Argente; "Recall your army. I am taking over."

Passel seemed affronted. "I beg your --?" But he was cut short as, in the blink of an eye, he felt Grievous' claws slide smoothly, almost tenderly about his throat. He only just managed gasp.

"You beg my what? Forgiveness?" the General teased, his grip tightening, "You certainly will beg for at least that before I am through with you… unless, that is, you cooperate. Count Dooku told you I would be helping you all out, did he not?"

Passel nodded rapidly, his eyes screaming for release from the iron grip about his throat.

Grievous' yellow eyes smiled wickedly at the magistrate. "And you wouldn't want to upset Count Dooku, now, would you?"

Argente shook his head this time.

The General released Passel, allowing his claws to run across Argente's reptilian flesh as he drew them away, scratching slight, harmless grooves into his skin, but reminding him that he could dig much deeper; "Good man," he hissed.

It was then that Boba made his exit from the bridge - for the first time in ages, he felt that he was under threat. This General was suddenly demanding that they all let him pull their strings, and the Force knew what would happen to each of them if they refused…

Young Fett rubbed his throat as he walked away - he respected the General, but he feared him, and that wasn't an emotion he liked to have swilling about his mind. It would not be allowed to remain there forever.

---

Battledroids had the most irritating habit of being in the one place you really could have done without them. Obi had reached the top level of the catwalks within this huge vessel, only to find the doorway to the control room blocked by blast doors and by a good five rows thick of battledroids.

He let his lightsabre sag for a moment, gathering his breath. "Is this really necessary?" he panted, looking between each of the droids' pair of bland eyes as though he could read some kind of emotion in them, "I mean… do you all really want to die?"

The droids were confused.

"Die?" one asked its neighbour.

"Does not compute," the other replied.

They all raised their guns as one - 'when in doubt, shoot' computed quite well, however.

Obi clutched his lightsabre tight as a random droid in the front row chirped, "Blast him!"

Calling upon the Force, Kenobi vaulted into the air and dived with a great yell into their midst, swinging his lightsabre with wild abandon this way and that. Laser fire ricocheted crazily off of the walls all around them, and bits and pieces of droid were soon scattered over the floor like bones in a chaotic charnel house. After five minutes of mad fighting, Obi-Wan stood panting alone in a pile of metal limbs.

"What a waste," he murmured, shaking his head and kicking the bodies aside to get at the thick control room doors. He ran his fingers over the control panel to its side, but the keypad just bleeped and blinked at him, denying his entry. He pursed his lips and shrugged, having no choice but to opt again for the Qui-Gon approach. In a swift, fluid motion, he rammed his lightsabre straight through the doors.

The metal cried out against him and glowed red hot, melting at the touch of the fizzling blue blade. Steadily, small globules of the metal began to drip down at his feet, settling into their newfound graves on the floor below. Obi twisted his 'sabre hilt again, thankful that he had at least some firm ground to work on this time, and patiently went on with his work.

Sirens still bleared all around him, but there didn't seem to be anyone left to come and berate him. He was thankful for this, too - battledroids became very tedious to fight after a while.

A slow and steady job allowed Obi-Wan eventual access to the control room beyond and, springing through the hole in the door, he found himself face to face with more battledroids. Super battledroids, to be precise.

"Ah," he again sighed and, wiping the sweat from his brow, braced against the incoming torrent of laser fire, one that came thicker and faster than any measly assault from the lesser battledroid models. The Jedi Knight moved across the wide bridge, knocking all the shots wildly astray, and tried to gain some kind of upper hand in the situation - it wasn't fast coming, though.

"Blast," he muttered through gritted teeth, his arms now tiring from the exertions they were being caused to undergo, allowed not a moment's respite beneath the relentless barrage.

Fortunately, fate seemed to be on his side. Or at least on the side of a suicidal R4 unit, for, seconds later, Kenobi's starfighter came crashing through the bridge's window, shattering glass all over the show, and blowing eighty percent of the super battledroid clan into oblivion. Obi covered his eyes as he was showered with all manner of debris, then looked to the dagger-shaped vessel, now embedded deep in the metallic flesh of the monolith's innards.

"Well I never," he muttered.

His kamikaze R4 unit gave him a final few blinks till his light went out forever. Obi sighed, giving the courageous and frankly crazy droid a nod of farewell before, not wasting another second, he flung himself at the control panels and cut across every single one that hadn't already been smashed.

A few remaining super battledroids had got back to their feet, but they had lost their strength now that their numbers were gone, and Obi sorted them out with a few fine swings of his lightsabre and with a few nifty blows of the Force to their heads.

Cleaving the last console on the bridge in two, Obi-Wan realised that the ship was not only going down, but seemed to be getting hotter. "Can't be good," he noted to himself and, rushing to the window, saw he was still far too high above the ground to make a safe jump.

There was then an explosion behind him, within the core of the vessel.

Obi soon gathered that there wasn't going to be much choice in the matter, so he took a run up and threw himself out of the broken windows, soaring down to the ground below with his arms and legs outstretched, whilst starfighters zipped every which way around him…

---

Over on the planet Yavin, things had been looking up - 'had' being the key word, of course. Together, Mace and his troops had managed to drive back the onslaught of battle droids and Droidekas, using the thick forests and wide rivers here to their advantage. In the skies, too, the Republic starfighters had driven back the dull-witted, droid-controlled ships, and the firmament looked set to become their own again as well. Suddenly, however - for the ground troops at least - the terrain had changed, and the battle had been drawn out into the open over a giant basin of some sort of gravelly quarry.

Things weren't just turning against the Republic, though - things were becoming eerie. Mace now found that troopers, for what seemed like little or no reason, were falling dead, right, left and centre, all around him; every time he turned his head, a soldier, who had just that minute been stood there erect with his rifle, was lain dead on the floor, run through or decapitated. Windu could only deduce that they were being picked off by an assassin, and whoever he or she was, they were a speedy and incredibly quick killer.

To add insult to this already festering injury, the battle taking place in the sky was now also turning sour. The separatists had made a comeback and were now gunning down the Republic fighters with ease, as though, encouraged by the carnage below, they had gained valour and found their wits.

Mace knew that his former idea - which had involved a highly strategic plan of divide and conquer - was not going to work; too many of his soldiers were dropping down dead, and their numbers had been an integral element to it all. It looked likely that he was to be left alone in this struggle.

Slipping away his personal holographic communicator into his robes, having just alerted one of his friends to the dilemma, Mace now swung his purple lightsabre about in his palms until, distracted, he felt the body of another clone trooper tumble to an ungraceful halt by his feet. The poor man had been flung from across the field to his death, and blood seeped out of a hole in his chest, a cavity that had been hewn by no common piece of weaponry. It had been hewn by a lightsabre.

However, before Mace had time to ponder on this, Droidekas were suddenly whirling all around him. Master Windu clenched his fist, and, the Force obeying, all these droids imploded at his command. Super Battledroids rushed to him, guns held erect; Mace seemed to just wave at them, however, and, the Force again following his movements like an orchestra follows a conductor, he caused all the droids' shells to be blasted through and torn apart. They fell in a million pieces, with clinks and clangs, to the floor.

Mace's gaze narrowed - he waited for the master to appear.

The Force whispered to him - /Behind you, behind you!/ it said, and he swung around... But there was nothing there.

/Above you!/ it cried.

Windu looked up, but his eyes only just caught the tail end of a passing shadow.

/To your right!/

Whoosh - it was gone.

/Your left!/

Whoosh - too slow.

/Above! Behind! In front!/

Mace swirled and twirled, but he could never catch the creature with his eyes, couldn't even sense its essence, as though it were impervious to the Force. All he could do was to hear the voice of the Midichlorians scream at him every time his life fell within inches of this ethereal danger.

"Where are you?" Mace finally found himself yelling in frustration, wound up to breaking point.

…

There was a silence, a long, eerie silence. Debris rolled across the ground, the wind whistled through the broken ship hulls and decapitated bodies. Peace fell on the scene. The battle in the sky had moved on, whilst the battle on the ground was coming to its climax. Mace was suddenly aware of being the only one left - his entire army was dead. His heart pounded in his ears and sweat trickled down his brow.

But, hark! there was a sudden shifting of pebbles to his right!

Mace pivoted about.

But /BEHIND YOU!!!!/ the force then cried.

He turned again.

_Thrum._

"Ach…"

But it was too late…

---

There was another explosion, then another, and, with a great crash, the monolithic tower, once known as 'It', hit the ground and sent tremors all across the fields around it. Not too far away, Obi-Wan also met the ground with a great 'oof'; he rolled wildly over the small hillocks and knolls of the area, doing his utmost to cushion his fall with the Force, until his momentum faltered into nothing and he lay still. He managed not to break any bones, at least, but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt...

Wincing, he looked over to the smouldering ruin of the Commerce Guild's wicked weapon and shook his head; he prayed he would never see another one of them again. Next thing he knew, though, he was hearing footsteps approach, and a cluster of troopers were soon gathered about his self.

"Are you all right, sir?" Captain asked.

Kenobi blew up part of his fringe and replied, despite everything, "I'm fine, captain."

"The battle in the skies has moved toward the capital. They're trying to draw us into civilian areas," the captain went on.

"Then we must draw them back out," Obi determined.

"There is still much unrest, and not just over in the capital."

"Then we'd better get moving," Obi added, beginning to walk off as he spoke, "There's much to do, and we don't have time to waste."

"And Master Windu has sent you a message," Captain stated.

Obi blinked and drew to an abrupt halt in his tracks. "He has?" he asked, turning back to the Clone Trooper with a look of unease creasing his brow.

The clone trooper walked up to the General and opened his hand to him, passing Kenobi a small, handheld communicator. Obi looked at the device uncertainly, before he pressed his thumb down onto one of the buttons and, following a buzz of interference, watched the device tremble into life. A fuzzy, small, holographic image of Mace Windu manifested itself on top of the device, and the Jedi Master looked as though, whenever he had made the message, that he had been constantly on the move, trying to avoid some unseen enemy.

"General Kenobi," Windu muttered, short on breath, "It seems the Separatists have played their trump card against me. There's some… some_thing_ out here. It's wiped out half my army already and is closing in." He took a breath. "I hate to admit it, old friend, but I could really use some help!" He flashed one of his brave, charming smiles, but the emptiness in his eyes told of his distress; "If you can spare yourself, General Kenobi… I need you."

The transmission faded.

Obi stared at the void where his friend's image had been for a while before he glanced at his captain; "I have to go," he said automatically, "I'm sorry."

"Then what are your orders, sir?" Captain continued.

Obi ran a hand back over his head, wiping the sweat and dirt from his brow and clearing his hair from out of his face. "Purge the capital of the Commerce Guild," he said, "I'll take a squadron of troops with me to Yavin. If things settle out over here, then you will follow me as soon as you can, but only on the condition that this planet is secure. We need garrisons set up here long before you leave. We cannot let the Separatists come close to conquering this one. Keep up the battle until it is over. Is that clear?"

The trooper nodded, "Yes, General."

Kenobi gave him a slight nod in return. "Good. Then let's move."

**TBC…**


	36. The Incoming Tide

**Author's Notes: **Anyone else spend stupid amounts of time thinking up chapter titles...? I'm running out of ideas now. ;) Heh.

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 36**

Argente and Purple took a platoon of droids ahead and began to set up camp on the edge of the dense forest, near to the sight of the recent battle at Yavin. In a frighteningly short time, General Grievous had settled the brawl, and it had been an all-out victory for the Separatists. No one from the Republic party had left the planet alive.

Young Boba had wondered off, his mind lured to the grave, deathly battlefield like a fish was lured to bait - murder and destruction was in his blood. Argente could not care less what the child did for the time being, so let him go off to satisfy his curiosity, whilst he and Purple got on with the more important tasks at hand. Yavin was theirs, and their flag would fly here tonight.

----

There were men and women in the universe that always thought they knew better. Palpatine liked these people - they always proved to be of great use to him. Magnus Oluf Valdemar Sweyn Veers, who had a name as big as his ego, was one of these people. He was a governor of some small mid-rim district, and his ego was currently making a bit of a racket in front of the Chancellor's desk.

"Do you honestly think this war of yours effective?" the man growled, slamming his fist onto the tabletop and glaring at Palpatine with ire, "Your troops are all over the place and the Separatists are running rings around you! The Jedi Knights are keepers of the damn peace - why then are you sending them out to be soldiers?"

The Chancellor stared at Veers' fist, then up into his eyes, and slowly steepled his fingers before his nose, studying the man for a moment; Veers was a rather tall man with a stocky build. His hair was a dull blond, apart from his thick moustache, which seemed to have a mind of its own and was more of a red, whilst his eyes were a faded grey and his face was what one could only call stern, looking as though sculpted from out of solid rock. He was one of those men who liked a decent fight, and thought war was always good for something. Right now, though, he didn't think the Chancellor was playing the game very well.

"Forgive my ignorance," Palpatine said, with his usual level of infuriating composure, "But what is it that you want to say exactly, sir?"

Magnus' cheeks inflated for a moment and he leant forward, growling in his most patrician of tones, "What I am saying, Supreme Chancellor, is that you have an army out there being led by people ill-qualified to do such."

The Chancellor cocked an eyebrow; "I would like to know how else Keepers of the Peace are expected to maintain this 'Peace'… but then, I am-ill qualified to judge the matter, am I not?" He leant forward now as well. "So, tell me, my good man, what would you have me do instead?"

"Put _military-minded _people in their places," Magnus stated through clenched teeth, "Bring some sort of order to this _joke _of a conflict you have instigated."

"I have not willingly instigated anything," Palpatine corrected the man.

Magnus did not look convinced. "Of course not," he drawled, stepping back away from the desk in an all-too-casual manner. "Remember we are on your side, Chancellor. Do not forget the people outside of the Jedi - we do not all need the Force to be worthy of your office."

Palpatine watched the man march out and chewed on his tongue for a second. He then elected for a second opinion, and called Mas Amedda into his office.

"Well, it's clear that the nobles are behind a different course of military leadership," Amedda concluded once he'd heard the Chancellor out, "And, if you will, your Excellency, please remember what I said to you concerning the Jedi…"

"Nobles are only interested in achieving chivalric glory," Palpatine rallied, "And perhaps there is some cash incentive too - I know not, I was not raised that way - but I do recall being told once myself that the Jedi are not soldiers."

"They are ill-suited to the task," Mas concurred.

"But they have done quite a fine job so far…" the Chancellor asserted.

Amedda only conceded with a weak sigh and watched as the Chancellor took it upon himself to pace his office, fingers tapping nervously against his rather prominent chin all the while.

"If I may venture an opinion, your excellency," Amedda then said, opting to try his luck once more, "Military men - men without the Force… well, they would command much more respect from the multitude in the Republic than the Jedi now do. Men - and women, of course - who are 'normal' would key into the psyche of the population as something they can relate to, as something that is like _them_."

Palpatine had since frozen and was just glaring at Mas, making not a single sound or movement.

"And, undoubtedly," Amedda went on, feeling it would be better to continue than to suffer silently under that man's gaze, "they would be easier to control, do you not think? They would answer only to you, and there would be no more of this time-wasting nonsense, with the Jedi consulting their 'inner councils' and what-not before they ever consulted you."

The Supreme Chancellor continued to stare fixedly at Mas Amedda, and the aide began to get more than a little uncomfortable beneath those eyes.

Finally, the Chancellor moved, and, with a clap of his hands, said, "I may be convinced, Amedda. I think it's time I used these 'emergency powers' to greater effect. Call in the noble militia - we shall have… 'words'."

Amedda grinned. "Yes, your excellency."

---

Boba walked through a cloud of smoke toward the erect form of General Grievous. The fearsome creature had his claw-like foot clamped tightly about Mace Windu's skull, holding it into the floor as the Jedi, weakened and exhausted, found that his cards were all but spent.

Boba folded his arms and looked up at the white pillar of steel, giving him a nod of approval. "My father would have enjoyed your company," he said.

Grievous' eyes slid across to stare at the young clone child, the one he had examined so closely earlier, and he said, "An honour, I am sure." Boba certainly didn't know which way to take that, though.

The boy reached into a sheath strapped to his leg and withdrew a silver pistol; he twirled it around in his hands, as skilled as his father had been with the weapon, and then aimed its barrel at the trapped Jedi Master.

"He killed my father," Boba said.

Grievous continued to stare, his cloak fluttering about him gently as a desolate wind clawed its way over the battlefield, gasping out its last.

"Let me kill him," Boba went on.

Grievous didn't move for a moment. His eyes returned to Windu's fatigued form and, realising that he had had more than his fair share of killing today, he decided to indulge the strange, human boy and leave this dying specimen to him. His foot unclamped from the Jedi's head and he stepped away; "Be my guest," he hissed.

Boba's eyes lit up with a chilling malevolence, something he shared in common with the inhuman General, and he gave him a nod of thanks.

Grievous just turned his back on the boy, but, before he left, he reached down to the floor and retrieved Mace Windu's lightsabre, claiming it as his own. He hooked it onto his waist, the first of what he hoped would be many trophies added to his belt. Satisfied that that was all he wanted out of the situation, he then skulked away on his skeletal legs, and left the boy to his slaughter.

Things had long since gone dark for Mace Windu. He knew there was a hole through his abdomen, inflicted by the General, which had cut through his right ribcage and lung, but his life had lingered yet. He had been beaten and clouted further by the white beast, despite the mortal wound, and was now left as little better than a quivering pulp on the floor, blood oozing from his mouth and bile clogging his throat. But even now, it would seem, he was not to be allowed to die in peace. Following the masochistic machine came this young, masochistic boy, and it was to him the Jedi Master now had to answer.

Mace coughed, sending saliva, blood and grit across the ground before his face, before he then raised his eyes to meet those of the child coming toward him. He gathered what little resolve he had yet remaining and waited for this next stage of his torture - all his life he had been both brave and courageous, his tenacity the stuff of legend amongst the Jedi Order, yet he knew that it would all soon be over. Even if it all came to nothing, he would not shrink at the last. He would not give this wicked child that pleasure.

Young Boba sauntered before the Jedi Master, and his terrible smile now finally faltered as his eyes emptied of delight and filled with hate - here was the man who had murdered his father, here was the Jedi responsible for Jango Fett's death. Boba felt his breaths quicken and his blood simmer in his veins; he would not waste his breath on words - he would act as his father had acted: quickly, efficiently and without questions asked.

His small hands clasped the silver gun and, slowly, he rose it until the barrel faced straight at the Jedi Master's torso. He saw the bravado in Windu's eyes, saw the last trickles of heroism still shining in his heart, and young Fett narrowed his gaze at such foolish attributes. His finger tightened on the trigger. There was blast as a single shot, perfectly aimed, thundered into Mace's body, and, finally, the Jedi Master felt his life become a sure forfeit to his body…

---

"How did it go, father?"

Magnus sat down in one of the foyers within the senate building and gave his son, leant up against the wall, a quick glance. "Fine, son, fine. Though whether this blasted Chancellor of ours is going to do anything is another thing altogether."

The son was a pretty good likeness of the father: grey eyes, dull blond hair, just less stocky and sans moustache, and with an air about him that was notably less haughty. One got the impression when they looked into the eyes of Maximilian Veers, son of Magnus, that they were talking to a man on their wavelength, a young man who had brains enough to know when he was out of his depth, foresight enough to know how to keep on peoples' good sides, yet daring enough to speak his mind.

"Did you suggest displacing the Jedi?" Maximilian asked, walking away from the wall and sitting opposite his father as another delegation went off to give the Chancellor a piece of their mind.

"I did," Magnus snorted, "And he'd better do it."

"But what will he do with the Jedi?"

"Who cares? They're an outdated Order, anyway. What we need are _men_, Maximilian, men like the rest of us! Normal men."

"And women?"

"And women," Magnus conceded, "You know I meant that."

"Sorry, father."

Magnus sat back and cracked his knuckles. "The security of this democracy has gone unchecked long enough. Look at all the piracy and crime that's happening under our noses! Every Chancellor promises to wipe it away, to bring stability, but do we get it? My arse, do we!"

Max sighed, pursing his lips - father's could be fairly embarrassing when they wanted to be.

"And you, lad," father went on, as proud fathers do, "You will be part of this! I'll make sure they give you a fitting place."

The son managed a weak smile. "Thank you, father."

He then received the complimentary, overenthusiastic pat on the shoulder in return; "That's my lad!" Magnus beamed.

---

Obi-Wan's cruiser skidded to a halt at the coordinates of the late battle of Yavin, and he rushed down the ramp onto the terrain below to meet his allies. He soon staggered to a swift halt, however, his clone troopers rallying behind him, for he could do nothing but stare in horror at the devastation that surrounded him. No words could sum up this scene - the ground was completely littered with debris from both ships and from bodies, littered with oil and with blood.

Obi-Wan swallowed and, gathering his resolve, began to pace forward once more; "Come on," he muttered, trying not to look at the slaughter around his feet, "We better find everyone else."

The thing was, the party soon realised, that there was no 'everyone else'. All that was left of everyone was on the ground around them. After a long trek, they finally emerged into the dreadful, gravelly clearing. There was a silence here so deadly it made Kenobi's heart cold. His eyes searched the mist for any signs of life, for any sign of something still of this world. The wind, meanwhile, howled across the listless panorama and pushed thick clouds of smog across the land, making seeing anything further than twenty feet ahead very difficult. It also added to the unearthly feel of the place.

The clone troopers were close behind him all the time; Obi-Wan could hear their feet crunching as they stepped across the bloodied rubble. Apart from that, it was all so quiet. The cliché would be to call it too quiet.

Again, Obi swallowed. He had a really bad feeling about this.

As if in confirmation, there was suddenly a great scream from behind: "ARGH!"

Kenobi wheeled about, lightsabre in hand before a second had elapsed. He looked about for the screaming man, rushing back several paces through the smog to find him; "What is it?" he shouted. He could see nothing.

It was then that Kenobi realised that he could no longer hear his squadron behind him. He felt a sick feeling swell in his stomach and, slowly, he turned around. He had to swallow quickly and clamp a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from retching, though, for his entire squad now lay dead on the uneven floor. Their heads were nowhere to be seen...

Obi shuddered, eyes widening in fear and his legs shaking - he knew he should know no fear, knew he should know no anger, but that scene, that sudden, soundless act of slaughter, had drawn his most primal of human instincts to the surface. And he could not help being human.

He swung his 'sabre around right then left, looking for the murderer with his eyes and his senses. Yet he could find none. He knew that the wounds inflicted so upon his squad, the decapitation he had seen there, with the necks left as cauterised stumps, could only be dealt by a protagonist with a lightsabre. He also knew that a warrior using a lightsabre should leave some kind of trace in the fabric of the Force, like a ripple that a boat leaves across the water in its wake, yet he could find nothing. This scared him more than anything: never had he faced a being who was capable of such swift murder and who was immune to his senses. Was this mysterious brute able to hide himself like a ship hides from a radar with a cloaking device…? Or was he of another world altogether?

"Where are you?!" Obi found himself shouting, the fog clouding thickly all around and leaving him lost in a void of whiteness.

His voice echoed across the land of the dead, coming back to him undisturbed: _'Where are you? Where are you?'_

"Show yourself!!" he added, lightsabre swinging first here then there, searching for the phantom warrior.

'_Show yourself! Show yourself!'_

He stepped slowly back, and back again, feeling things other than stones pass beneath his feet, things he'd rather not look at…

Then he stumbled on a body and, turning, his eyes met those of Master Windu's; "Mace!" he shouted, dropping to his side and lifting the Jedi Master's head into his lap, "Force, Mace, I thought I'd never find you."

Windu looked incredibly weak - it was amazing that he had managed to hang on for so long - and yet he still managed to give Obi-Wan one of his trademark smiles, albeit both faint and tremulous. "I am glad you are come," Mace muttered quietly, raising his hand to Obi's shoulder and clutching it weakly, "Please… please be on your guard, Master Kenobi."

Obi took in a deep breath - it was only now, as the elation of finding Mace alive faded, that he saw the true state his friend was in. A lightsabre had borne a fatal channel through his breast, whilst a blaster had hewn another near his heart. Kenobi felt that trickle of cold rage again, the one he'd felt years ago when, trapped behind the red gateway, he had watched in agony as his Master was run through, whilst he could do nothing. He couldn't help but feel this anger - it would more be a sin to feel nothing at all, would it not?

"Obi-Wan," Mace went on, taking a hold of the Jedi Knight's tunic and drawing his attention back to him, "There is a creature here of the likes you have never seen before…" He swallowed, drawing upon his final reserves of energy, "He is a droid General. Please, be careful."

The air shifted behind Obi-Wan in that unobtrusive way where you know, nevertheless, that there is now someone stood behind you. He stared ahead, laying Master Windu down gently on the ground, before he rose to his feet and turned.

And there he was - the assassin of his men and of his friend. Here was the ghost who had added yet more grief to his life. Here was the latest card played by Count Dooku.

Obi felt his fists clench as he and this droid stared at one another: Yes, he was a 'droid' general, yet there was something living about him - and not just in the animate sense of all droids, but in the flesh and blood sense of a natural creature. The focal point of this 'living' essence was his feral eyes, livid yellow eyes that glared at Obi-Wan through the fog with little or no pity, and with little or no remorse. And it was this that told Kenobi that, whatever this thing was made up of, it was no natural creature, for nothing born and raised naturally could conceivably exist without conscience…

The wind hissed and murmured around them, knocking their hanging robes about their rigid forms.

"Master Kenobi," the creature said, nodding its head, "I have heard much about you."

Obi-Wan studied the creature as it spoke, its ghostly voice penetrating every empty void in the landscape and making it its own.

"I am touched," Obi replied darkly.

"I am General Grievous," the droid said, "And I have been told about you. You are highly regarded by our leader."

"Am I?"

The General snickered, strange eyelids sliding down and over his eyes as he blinked. "Yes, Master Kenobi. I know more about you than you do."

Obi-Wan frowned, disturbed by this creature who seemed to take such an interest in his life; "What do you mean?"

The General sniggered again. "It is not my place to tell you."

Mace had been listening all this time from the ground, his chest rising and falling more laboriously as each moment passed. He eyed Grievous uncertainly, pondering what his game was, and yet nervous that he was going to let something slip…

Obi wasn't to be easily distracted, though; he brought his lightsabre forth before him and challenged the white spectre; "And you think this will stop me fighting you?"

Grievous' hands moved faster than Obi thought was possible and he soon had two lightsabres in his grasp, activated and ready by his sides. "I had hoped to discourage you from taking on such a foolish enterprise."

Obi's heart hardened as he caught a glimpse of Mace's 'sabre hilt at Grievous' hip. He licked his lip and glared with resolve at the General's bland, skull-like face. Then he charged - through the fog, through the mist - and swung at the droid. He was fortunate that he didn't have to rely on his eyes alone, for the General was too fast even for that. Kenobi had to give himself up to the Force and allow it to guide him, for he could otherwise have no notion of where the General would strike. As Kenobi swung at the droid's neck, his shot was parried and the General's other blade was coming down on his legs. Told to jump by his senses, Kenobi did so, only to be told, at the same moment, to block a shot incoming at his head.

This mad battle went on for what seemed like an age. When the General was forced to flip onto more stable ground, he exchanged one lightsabre from his hand to his foot, and continued to battle that way until he felt inclined to place it back in his hand again. The sweat that beaded on Obi-Wan's brow did not bead upon Grievous' white mantle; the fatigue that embraced Kenobi's muscles did no such thing to Grievous' metallic limbs. Obi knew he was fighting a losing battle, yet he kept going.

Mace watched all the while, forcing himself to hold on, clutching to that ever-thinning thread of life as his friend battled on against all the odds.

Grievous crossed his two lightsabres and caught Obi's incoming blade between them, holding it there for a moment so that he could stare straight into Kenobi's azure gaze; "You are resolute and dogged," he growled, "Like he who gave you life."

This peculiar statement made the tired and weary Jedi hesitate for a second too long, and, with a sharp kick, the General sent Kenobi flying across the terrain, until he thudded into the smouldering wreckage of a ship with a graceless clang. Obi groaned, feeling blood swell in the gash on his chest, just now inflicted by the Generals' clawed foot.

Gliding across the hazy terrain, which furthermore made him seem like a creature of the netherworld, Grievous stalked up upon Obi-Wan and gave him the most conceited look that his feral eyes could manage. Obi glared back up at him, breathing hard and summoning his waylaid lightsabre back to his outstretched palm. Before it reached his hand, however, Grievous slammed his foot down onto the Jedi's wrist. There was a crunch as the bones snapped and Obi-Wan cried out in pain.

The General bent low and looked again into Obi-Wan's eyes; "You are fortunate," he hissed, "For he does not want you dead."

Kenobi found his voice amidst the pain; "Who doesn't?" he quavered.

Grievous stared long and hard, his faint snicker again emerging from beneath his skull-like head; "_He _doesn't. Not yet, anyhow. You are lucky."

Obi cringed, pain beginning to claw its way up his arm from his fractured bones.

Slowly, the General drew away. "Remember this, Jedi, for I may choose not to regard my leader's desire next time." And, with that, he faded into the background, pacing away until the swirls of smoke and fog had swallowed him up. Obi sighed deeply and, taking his lightsabre up with his other hand, got to his feet.

Cradling the wounded wrist, the weary Jedi now returned to Mace's side.

---

Waking up in her dreary, grey dorm, Padmé wiped her eyes and peeled herself away from the mattress, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. Tidying herself up a little, she suddenly had the urge to stay where she was forever. Memories of what she had almost done yesterday evening came back to haunt her like the hazy memories of a night on the town, and she wanted to just bury her head in the sand and forget they had ever happened. Yet she knew, in truth, that sitting around all day regretting something that hadn't even occured was a sorry state to be in, so she soon ventured out into the corridor beyond and went off in search of the Count to see if she could find what was on the menu today.

The halls were as empty as they had ever been, and her heavy footsteps resounded through them like thunder claps as she again made her way to Dooku's office. When she pushed open the door, the man was sat behind his desk as though he had never left it. In fact, as she stepped inside, she could tell that he hadn't slept at all, so it was highly likely he'd been there most of the night. He looked suddenly pale and unnaturally tense, though - so unlike a few hours earlier - as if something had been playing heavily on his mind.

Spying her out of the corner of his eyes, the Count shot to his feet and gave her a bow. "Good morning," he said, "I gather you slept well?"

Padmé nodded lethargically, rubbing more sleep from her eyes. "Haven't you slept?" she asked.

He shook his head quickly, pacing around the desk.

"Is something wrong?" Padmé added.

He continued to pace for a moment before, halting suddenly, he stared at her intensely. "I've been thinking," he said.

"Me too," Padmé added, almost against her will.

His brow rose, as though he had not expected it. "Indeed? And would you like to talk about it?"

She squirmed a little under his gaze - it felt too early for any of his 'big talks'; "I… well…" she dithered.

"The thing is," he interposed, "that I don't have much time to talk."

She blinked, eyes narrowing all the while; "What do you mean?"

He began pacing again. "I have to leave."

Her eyes followed him, her head moving to-and-fro as he marched back and forth. "Since when? she asked, wondering what conversation she'd missed since yesterday, "I thought we were going to Alderaan? You said we were going to --"

"I know what I damn well said!" he barked, turning to her squarely with burning eyes. He rose his hand and pointed a harsh finger at her. "You, my dear, still _are _going to Alderaan."

Padmé's brow knotted as her eyes focused on the pointing finger, taking it as a personal offence. "And where are you going?" she queried.

"Just do as I say. Please."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You don't need to," he replied, taking several large paces right up to her. Looking down on her, he lowered his tone and pleaded, "Please, just go. You'll have little problem talking to Bail. He likes you, he'll listen to you. I have faith in that."

Padmé hadn't seemed to be listening to him, however. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what it is you've suddenly got to jet off and do."

"Just go," he repeated.

"Why don't you send your General instead?"

"Because he's gone away already."

Padmé relaxed a little at hearing this - finally, that thing was gone; "Thank the Force for that," she said aside.

Serenn heard her anyway, "You really don't like him, do you?"

"I have no reason to like him."

"He doesn't like you much himself, you know."

"Good."

A dry smirk pricked up at the corners of his mouth. "Obstinate woman," he said.

"What is he, anyway?" she had to ask out of morbid curiosity, "I've never seen anything like him."

Serenn had to ponder on this for a moment. "I'm not sure myself," he eventually resolved, "He's part droid and part… well, one might say 'part man'. He's part _something_, there's no doubt about that."

Padmé swallowed. "How can anything be part machine and man?"

"Quite easily, it would seem."

"It makes me sick."

"Pity. Your Anakin has a fine metal limb now, doesn't he?"

Her gaze hardened on him. "That's --"

"Different?" he asked as her voice faded away. He shook his head, "No, it isn't."

She gave him a scowl and opted to remain quiet.

"Speaking of Anakin," Dooku continued, "our spies have heard reports that the boy has… gone missing."

"'Missing'?" she murmured.

"Some say he's dead."

"_What?!_"

The Count placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down," he said firmly, "I know he's not dead…"

Padmé realised that her heart was suddenly pumping very fast; the shock of hearing those words had hit her with an unprecedented force, and she suddenly felt very guilty at her recent state of contentment. She'd been thinking too much of herself lately, and forgetting her poor, misguided Anakin.

"He may have been better off dead of course," Serenn added, rather unwisely.

Padmé's eyes darted back onto him and she slapped his hand away from her with great force, looking set to storm out of the room.

As she reached the door, though, Serenn's commanding tone drew her back; "Are we finished talking?" he barked after her, moving his hands to his hips and arching his brow.

Padmé shuddered to a halt by the doorway, hanging through the doorframe and thinking on whether or not she should leave. She drew in a deep breath to calm herself, and knew that there were yet things to be said, so she turned back to listen. She could not erase the indignation she felt toward his imprudent snub of Anakin, though.

"I'm not going to Alderaan until you tell me what you're up to," she told him straight off.

"I'm not up to anything," he assured her.

She hadn't moved away from the doorframe yet, so she leant into it and imitated him by cocking an eyebrow. "Aren't you?" she asked.

He didn't seem impressed by the impersonation; "No," he rallied.

"You won't mind me coming with you, then?"

His brow fell heavily over his eyes. "I most certainly will mind. You shall go to Alderaan, my dear."

"No I will not. I will go with you."

His face contorted in frustration, and Padmé suddenly felt the flaring of that small spark within her, the spark of power that she held over Serenn, and she admitted - but only to that small, dark facet of her soul, that she kept caged deep within - that she actually liked this power.

"For the Force's sake!" the Count bellowed, unable to resort to anything but language, "I finally offer you some freedom, a chance to get away from me, and you damn well ask to stay!"

"Then tell me what you're planning to do," she countered, "and I might be persuaded otherwise!"

"Don't you trust me?" he asked.

"No!"

He heaved a great sigh. "I told Grievous you didn't…" he murmured to himself, clicking his tongue and folding his arms.

"Tell me what's going on," Padmé said after another moment's silence, "I could have gone home before, I could have stayed on Naboo and had my freedom, but I know my place is --" Her voice faltered and she stared at her feet, trying to conjure a recovery.

"That your place is here?" Serenn interposed softly on her behalf.

She opened her mouth to reply but settled just for nodding her assent.

He smiled sadly. "Please, I am _begging _you to go to Alderaan."

She shook her head. "No."

"Please."

"No."

"Don't make me get down on my knees…" he went on.

Padmé could see she was winding him up, tighter and tighter. He wasn't in control anymore and it pained him. But she didn't care whether it was his or her interests he had at heart right now - she was blinded by this power she held over him, and just revelled in it. "Get on your knees," she dared him, "It won't do any good."

He might have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious; "You just don't understand…"

"Enlighten me, then!"

He stared at her, long and hard. "I don't want you to get hurt any more," he said plainly, "Can't you see that?"

She shook her head again slowly. "I don't see that. I don't see anything, because you're not telling me anything."

"I am _begging_ --" he repeated, a forceful growl now beginning to froth at the edge of his words.

"Well don't!" she snapped, cutting him short, "I am not helpless or weak, no matter what you may think! It doesn't matter what you've put me through, or how much you regret things - I didn't need your protection before and I damn well don't need it now - I can protect myself!"

"And don't I know it," he concurred quietly, "But --"

She closed the gap between them and dared to go as far as to prod him in the chest; "I'm coming with you then," she more or less affirmed.

"No!" he snarled, shaking his head all the more forcefully, "You bloody well are not!"

She was bristling as much as he was, her eyes as intense as his, her true passionate nature burning beneath them as hot as his own helpless rage; "Don't lock me out!" she shouted.

His shoulders shook as he glared into those defiant eyes and he let himself fall, beyond his better judgement, back into that dark pit, the one from which he had climbed so far out of as of late. As he tumbled, his thoughts were obscured by the fierce, domineering power that had haunted his mind for too many a year now, and he saw things through a blurred haze. Padmé had seen the change in his eyes before he had even noticed it, and he saw her expression fade from anger to anxiety - but he had fallen too far to recognise this by now, though, and, stepping forward, he grasped her auburn tresses tightly in his hand and yanked her hair down, behind her back. He heard her cry out, but did not heed it, and just glared down into her eyes as she could do nothing but look up into his face. He could feel her hands clawing at his arm, could see the desperation and terror in her eyes, yet it still did not register - the dark force had control, and he was momentarily consumed by that unchecked anger that haunted his every living minute and threatened his very existence.

"Don't make me hurt you, Padmé," his voice growled, his words curdled with fire and blood. Even though he said the words, though, his voice felt disembodied, separate from his self.

"Let go of me!" she yelled.

Padmé's voice came to him as though from another plain of existence; still, nothing seemed quite real… it was like a dream, a complete and utter hallucination.

/Lover or Abuser?/

And suddenly, memory kicked in and the sinister screen shattered. A cascade of water fell over the smouldering inferno and cooled it in one fell swoop. The red haze settled and his vision cleared.

/Lover or Abuser?/

"Qui-Gon…" the Count muttered, before he recoiled rapidly from Padmé. He looked at his hands as if they were soiled with the sins of the universe and breathed rapidly. "What am I doing?" he questioned himself, "Why can't I control myself?" He panted, eyes panic-stricken, before he looked at Padmé and saw the tears of pain in her own eyes. As bad as that was, the mistrust there was worse. She looked at him all over again as if she didn't know him, all over again as if he was some feral monster, needing caging.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and rubbed her sore neck, backing away from him slowly into the wall.

He stood and stared at her, trying to communicate in some way what had just overcome him, to tell her that it wasn't his intention to hurt her, that he never meant to do this… but he couldn't, because he knew there was no excuse. "Padmé, I --" he stammered.

"What are you?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but so grave that it touched him to his core. "Not who, but _what_ are you, Count Dooku?" she continued.

He tried to find the words to express himself, but he could not. He was voiceless. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You keep saying that now," she whispered, almost pitifully, "But it doesn't change things. It doesn't compensate for anything."

He shook his head. "No… it doesn't," he agreed, looking downward for a moment before he continued in a hushed tone, "Try to understand. I am at my wit's end as to how to get you to go on to Alderaan. If you would just go to Alderaan…"

"Then tell me why."

He met her eyes and shook his head. "I cannot."

She gave him an angry glare. "No surprise there, then…" she muttered, and turned to go.

He took two large strides across the room and grasped her arm, pulling her back. "When you do know, one day when you do, you will understand why I kept you in ignorance," he told her in earnest, "I am trying to save you… If you come with me now --"

"I've come this far," she said, "There's no use stopping now."

He watched her. "Meaning what?"

"That you are not going on without me."

He blinked, then stared, then blinked and stared some more. "You're a strange creature, Padmé," he muttered, raising his hand and running it down her face, then round the curve of her neck. "So very strange… Strong, hot-blooded, yet --" He shook his head, thinking for a second; "You are as passionate a fool as I was - as I am - if nothing else."

She watched him silently, leaning back against the wall.

"Why won't you let me save you?" he asked.

"You can't save me," she whispered.

He wasn't sure they were even talking about the same thing now, but he didn't pursue the conversation. "I can't make you listen to me," he admitted, "And it angers me when you are in as much danger as you are now and you run headlong into it."

"What danger? Who from?"

"I can feel it splashing at your feet like an incoming tide," he went on mystically, "trying to swallow you whole."

Padmé looked at her feet as he said this, then glanced uneasily at his face; he had closed his eyes now and was rubbing his thumb against her skin where he held her wrist; "I can't let that happen," he went on, "I won't let it happen."

She shook her head. "You can't stop the tide, though. It comes and goes how it pleases. You can't stop it."

He opened his eyes and regarded her again for a moment; "Yes, you are wise," he murmured, "But even fools can be wise." He leant in as though to kiss her on the forehead, but then thought better of it and, releasing her, stepped away; "Say you'll do as I ask, this one final time?" he again implored.

She leant against the metallic wall and stared at the floor; "If you come with me to Alderaan first, then I may let you go…"

He sighed, defeated. "It might be too late for both of us by then."

He met her eyes and she smiled, slightly at first, then earnestly; "Then come what may," she whispered.

**TBC…**


	37. Broken Strings

**Author's Notes:** "Eclipse" turned two last January the 25th. It would have been appropriate to commemorate its birthday with a new chapter, but I failed to get one done in time. So how about I make it up to you with a five-chapter-at-once bonanza? Things are hotting up to the beginning of the end now, which I'm partly happy and partly sad about - happy to finish this gargantuan beast, yet unhappy to think that I won't have it to work on some time in the (hopefully) near future. I've decided that my project after "Eclipse" will be my old, almost abandoned "Dark Lady" fic, which is about an OC of mine who becomes Darth Vader's protégée, and which I started writing when I was 13 (eep!). But enough of that… I must again offer my thanks to everyone for their unceasing support - a writer is nothing without readers, and you've all been very helpful, encouraging and inspiring. I'm going to leave the fifth part on a cliff-hanger just to annoy you and am hoping to get the final creases in the plot ironed out before I take that final plunge into the last leg of the journey. This _will _be able to tag onto Episode IV in its own way, I promise.

I've got a feeling that I'm not gonna have the time to do General Grievous justice either. I love playing with him in my story, but I can't give him a part that will equal whatever he might be getting in RotS.

And I got fed up with reading these next five chapters through in the end, so if there are mistakes and stuff, just let me know nicely. I'll go back to 'em later or else I'll never get finished.

**PadawanMage:** I made up Veers' dad. I got all his names from past Scandinavian kings. I thought it kinda complemented him having a son called 'Maximilian'. and don't think too hard about my story, or you'll make my brain ache… ;)

**Ami:** It's funny there's a planet called 'Eclipse' in the EU - I did see that on a SW galactic map, I must confess, though it has nothing to do with my story or its title. Thanks for reading so far, anyway.

**Kynstar:** The "Moulin Rouge" OST has helped inspire me a lot for this fic (for some bizarre reason…) so there are quite a few references to it. I'm also glad you like my take on Grievous - it's gonna be interesting to compare him with the true, movie one in a few weeks.

**Infamous One:** Thank you - here are four more 'fat' chapters, and one 'skinny' one.

**Turtle Ninja:** It's nice to know you find my fic 'compelling' and all - it's just nice to know that I can entertain peeps, and that bizarre formulas can sometimes work.

**Audreidi:** My thanks again - and it's just my opinion, about Sidious 'pandering' to Dooku. I mean, it's not so much what I write but what you read, so if you read something different into it, by all means go along with that.

**Cmdr. GabeE:** I think Padmé & Dooku's relationship is a doomed one, but it's so much fun to write. I won't say anymore on that. And Palpatine is really gonna be showing his true colours in the next few instalments, believe me.

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 37 - Broken Strings**

Obi-Wan somehow managed to drag Mace back to his cruiser, whilst tears ran down his dirty visage. As soon as he reached the vehicle, his legs collapsed beneath him, and he just lay there, wincing at the pain in his wrist, and staring down at Mace. Obi's eyes looked set to burst with the emotion he was trying so hard to contain, and Mace recognised it, even as an ever-thickening fog continued to build-up over his vision.

The Jedi Master managed one last smile, though his lips quivered in pain, and he said, "It's too late, Obi-Wan."

Kenobi closed his eyes; Force, didn't he know it was?

He felt Mace's hand tighten over his. "Do not grieve for me."

Obi-Wan looked at him, tears still running down his face - Grieve? How could he not grieve? Was he not human…?

"You must destroy that thing…" Windu insisted, "You must carry on."

Obi clutched onto Mace's hand. "I can't go on alone."

"You're not alone," Mace assured him. The insidious haze of death then finally consumed Master Windu's vision, and his grip fell slack, hand dropping from Obi's wrist.

Obi-Wan shook his head over and over again and leant over Master Windu's body, hoping to discern some remaining sign of life, some slight rise of the chest or flicker of the eyes - but there was none. It took a whole five minutes or so before, the ice breaking, Obi-Wan faced the truth and cried his heart out. No one could tell him not to grieve - what was there left for him now? Where was the hope? He had lost his master, his apprentice, and one of his greatest friends… He was alone.

"Master!" he sobbed, "Master, please, help me!"

Far away on Coruscant, it was Yoda who heard his cry and who felt his agony. And he also now knew what had happened...

* * *

Since time immemorial, there have been three distinct classes in society - those who fight, those who pray, and those who work - and, with this, there came a class hierarchy. And the Supreme Chancellor knew that no manner of democracy would ever abolish this, no matter what manifestos they preached. 

Today, he was concerned with the "those who fought" caste (or those who at least believed they did all the fighting) and his office was filled with dignitaries, peers, aristocrats, and all other manner of people from the upper and middle-classes of the Republic. They each chatted feverishly with their neighbour whilst the Chancellor waited for silence.

It didn't come.

At length, he made a polite cough. It wasn't a loud cough, but it commanded the quiet that he had wanted. He then smiled at them all; "Greetings ladies and gentlemen. I hope I find you all well?"

They seemed to grumble a concurrence.

"Excellent!" he chirped brightly, "And I thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to join me here today. I assure you, it'll be worth your time."

Another grumble of thanks, and what-not.

He rose from his seat, and stared again at them all. "It has been brought to my attention that the manner in which I am handling this… 'war' is far from satisfying to some folk."

To the left of Palpatine's desk, Magnus Veers allowed his chest to inflate a little; 'yes, it was me who brought it to attention' he insinuated.

"I have the power to make swift changes, people," the Chancellor went on, leaning over his desk and fixing them all with a much darker stare, "I have been voted emergency powers for the good of this realm, to force through measures to aid our Republic whenever necessary. I invite you to help me to do this. I need support and I want to count you all," - a genial smile - "as my friends."

All assembled exchanged glances and whispers.

"It has been suggested," he went on, silence immediately reinstating itself, "That I remove the Jedi from military service. Is this matter of your general view?"

Nods all round.

Palpatine smiled again. "I see. And what would you have me do with my Keepers of the Peace if I remove them from service on the front lines?"

"Who cares? The time of the Jedi is up. They are both obsolete and ineffective. I recommend you remove them from their privileged position in society and make them work for their places. I, for one, am sick of seeing my taxes squandered on an Order which, more often than not, puts nothing back into our galaxy. The fact that the Separatists ever got so far as to wage war is but testament to their ineptitude as our protectors."

There was such a strong, united sense of support for this eloquent speech that it could almost be felt pulsating through the room like the tremors of an earthquake. The Chancellor rose his eyebrows at the speaker; "Thank you for your contribution, Governor Tarkin."

Wilhuff Tarkin nodded his head in return. He was a thin, dark-haired man with a gaunt, stern countenance. He held dominion over a space of territory which bordered on the notorious Outer Rim, so he knew about crime and disorder, and he also knew that he had seen none of it abated by the Jedi Knights. He was not afraid to let the whole universe know about it, either.

"I agree," Magnus concurred, "What good have they ever done? We pay for them, damnit - we need to see evidence of our money doing some good for this galaxy!"

"So, without the Jedi," Palpatine said hypothetically, "Where would you like to see your taxes go?"

"Into a corps that can control this galaxy," a sharp-nosed woman sat in a chair at the front said.

"And what would one call that?" the Chancellor countered.

"An army."

"We have an army."

Several men with particularly haughty laughs made their ill-feeling known, and Palpatine's eyes crossed them all, until one had guts enough to speak; "We mean a _proper _army," a gentlemen from the Bespin district said, "An organised army."

"I see," Palpatine nodded.

"An army led by our own," Magnus appended, making a point by slapping his son on the shoulder as the young man stood quietly by his side.

"And you would support the… err… 'osmosis' of this new 'string of command' into the current Army of the Republic?" Palpatine added.

Another round of general ascent met this query.

The Chancellor nodded and paced back and forth behind his desk. "And what of the Jedi, I ask you again? They will no doubt have objections to an enforced 'retirement', to drastic changes being made to their age-old tradition."

"Make them obey," Wilhuff Tarkin said unwaveringly, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands over one knee.

The Chancellor and he exchanged a long stare. "That sounds an awful lot like a dictatorship to me, Governor," Palpatine said.

Tarkin did not blink. "If it works, your Excellency."

Before the discussion could go further, the doors to the Chancellor's office swept open and all heads turned to see who had dared to intrude. They all frowned when they could see no one there.

"Ah, Master Yoda," Palpatine said, and everyone turned down their gazes to see the small, green Jedi Master as he stood in the centre of the doorway.

Tarkin turned his eyes from the Jedi Master and cocked an eyebrow; 'Speak of the devil' he thought, before he steepled his fingers, and tapped them idly together.

Yoda's eyes scoured the aristocrats across the room before him with a sensible amount of distrust - he could see no amiability or good intentions in any of their eyes. "Supreme Chancellor," he said, eyes centring on the figure behind the desk, "A word with you I must have."

"I'm a little preoccupied, Master Jedi," the Chancellor riposted.

"A word with you I need. Now," Yoda insisted.

There was a gravity in his voice that caught the Supreme Chancellor's attention and, with a sigh, he kindly asked the nobility and bourgeoisie to leave the room. Grudgingly, they all gave up their seats and positions and filed out, not one leaving without giving Yoda a nasty passing glance. Yoda didn't have time for their arrogance, however, and ignored them, waiting for the door to close behind them before he made another move.

Making his way over to the Chancellor's desk, he then clambered into a seat and sat staring at Palpatine.

The Chancellor retook his own seat and then slowly said, "And how can I help you, Master Yoda?"

"Help me, you cannot," Yoda countered, "Come to report, I have, about our latest enemy."

Palpatine's brow rose, and Yoda could tell that the man had not been expecting this; "What do you mean 'latest enemy'?" he asked.

"Master Windu. Dead is he."

Palpatine blinked. "'Dead'?" he repeated.

Yoda nodded gravely, a twinkle of sorrow glittering in the corner of his eyes, "Yes, your Excellency."

Things were running through Palpatine's mind fast, and his fingers rapped the table-top as he considered this; "Go on," he eventually said.

"As already said, have I, a new enemy have we."

"Go on," Palpatine said once more, his voice tinged with impatience.

"Fought him, Master Kenobi has. A droid general, is he."

There was no trace of a reaction in the Chancellor at first, but then, slowly, after a tense moment of unfathomable silence, Palpatine's lips evidently pursed and he clenched one of his fists so tight that the knuckles showed white. Yoda watched him with care, but was still unable to account for the source of this kind of reaction, and could not tell whether this came from anger at Mace's death, or anger at the emergence of yet another foe. Or perhaps, even, it was due to something completely different.

The truth was that the strings to one of the Sith Master's puppets had broken… and he was not happy about it.

* * *

Grievous watched the battledroids trot out across the forest and disappear into the foliage on Yavin. The Koorivan magistrate, Argente had a base in operation, and now the battledroids were to help with the clean-up. They would need further bases established across the planet thereafter, and, following that, they would safely be able to call it their own. 

Grievous suddenly picked up on the sound of small feet crunching through the jungle behind him. Turning about, his yellow eyes settled onto Boba's form as the human child emerged from the trees. Upon seeing the General, the boy halted and offered him a bow.

Grievous inclined his head toward the child and asked, "And are you now content, Fett?"

"Yessir," Boba nodded.

Grievous snorted bluntly and turned his eyes back to his army; "Tell me, boy, what you want out of life."

Taking the General quite by surprise, Boba made a quick reply, almost without thinking. "I want to be a bounty hunter like my father," he said.

Grievous indulged himself with a knowing snicker; "But of course," he murmured.

There was another awkward silence between them, filled by nothing but a desolate gust of wind.

"I have no need for you here," Grievous suddenly said, voice cutting the silence like a knife cuts the flesh, "I wish to release you. But if I should let you go, what will you do?"

Boba looked Grievous up-and-down, then said, "Will Count Dooku let you?"

Grievous didn't turn to look at him. "I am as good as Count Dooku now."

Boba's brow knotted, but he had no intention of trifling with a beast such as this; "Well, I suppose I would return to Geonosis if I had to go, and I'd collect my ship, and carry on my father's training until I am ready. He told me to do that. I must keep training."

The General laughed again; "How sensible you are. How mature," he said as his eyes swivelled onto the child, "You seem like an adult trapped in a boy's body. You are different to your human brethren."

"I am my father's son," the boy said proudly.

Grievous laughed another time, but it was a much more despicable and proud one; "No," he said, "You _are _your father. That is the point."

Boba looked a bit unsettled by this declaration, by this statement of his lack of uniqueness. He swallowed and took a step back from the droid.

"I shall let you go," Grievous declared, "I am sure Poggle the Lesser could use the company. You shall go to him - I shall tell him to expect you - and you shall treat your benefactor well. If you do not..."

Boba blinked, and dared to put his hands on his hips. "And if I don't…?" he asked.

Grievous's eyes narrowed and, in a flash, he raised his claws before the child and swung them beneath his chin, stopping them at such a point where, had he left it a moment longer, he would have run a hole through the boy's throat; "Would you like to find out?" the droid asked.

Boba couldn't even swallow lest he wanted to pierce his gullet. He settled with a slight shake of his head, feeling the sharp tip of that claw beneath his jaw.

"Good boy," the General nodded, before he patted the child on the shoulder in the most unpleasant way possible.

Boba was still shaking five minutes after Grievous had left…

* * *

Padmé could find no sense in Serenn's sudden change of mind, as far as Alderaan went; whatever could have caused it? What was preventing him from going, yet not preventing her? Clearly his thoughts had hinged onto something that endangered the expedition, yet she could not think, for the life of her, what this was. It hardly made sense - between her talk with him the night before, and the morning she next came upon him, he had managed to stumble upon something that was frightfully dangerous to her welfare, yet the danger was in her _not _going on alone to Alderaan, of all things. And where would he be headed without her? What was he concealing? It was the most perplexing situation she had yet come upon in his presence (and there were many of them to be had). 

She still couldn't get anything out of him, either - at least nothing beyond the recurring promise that she would understand about her enforced ignorance when she was no longer ignorant. That was about as satisfying to her as a dinner of bread and cheese, and the Count must have known it. She therefore resolved to be awkward on the way to Alderaan, and sat in a sullen silence for much of the way. Dooku himself had lost his good humour, too, and, though not sullen, seemed most on-edge and fidgety. Their brief period of amiability had dissolved into a rather tenuous period of ceasefire in all areas of discussion. This lasted until when they were but a parsec from Alderaan - and what interrupted their mutual silence was an unwelcome and unexpected jolt of the Solar Sailor: There was a bang, and they were thrown up a little from their seats, before they fell back into them with a gentle 'thump'.

A tense silence followed in which they exchanged uneasy glances, and Padmé saw that all the colour had drained from Dooku's visage; his earlier panic, everything she had seen in his eyes when he had begged her to go on alone, had now cumulated into a realisation of his fears. She tried to make some light of the matter, even now, and conjectured dryly to herself that she would undoubtedly receive the 'I told you so' lecture, followed by the rounds of 'If you had only done as I had asked…', etcetera, etcetera, later on.

There was then another jolt, a much fiercer one, and the Solar Sailor began to wheel to starboard, rolling over and over for several moments. Count Dooku, hands gliding over the control panels and wrenching a lever, finally got it under some form of control, and a final, heavy silence followed.

Catching their breaths, Serenn and Padmé eyed one another once more, ever the more darkly.

"What was that?" Padmé asked.

Serenn gave her one of his long stares. "Yes, ask me, Padmé," he drawled, "for I am certain to know…"

She rose her lip at him before, with a gigantic thud, the craft was hit again, and sent reeling.

"Someone's shooting at us!" she yelled.

"Really?" he snarled, "What makes you think so?"

She would have thrown him another glare if the moment had allowed, but the shots kept coming, and Serenn seemed at a loss to be able to do anything against them. They just came from out of no where - there was no ship in sight, nor any picked up by the scanners.

"Pirates?" Padmé hazarded a guess, almost hopefully, whilst an alarm began to whine on the console.

Dooku shook his head, trying to gain some form of control over his ship. "No, not here… we're too close to Alderaan. Someone knew we were coming. Someone has lay in wait."

"But who would know?"

Serenn didn't look up and wouldn't meet her gaze. He just stared at the control panel in silence whilst the ship careened toward a random planet to the east.

Padmé frowned. "Serenn?"

There was another great shot. They both yelled this time as they were thrown forward. Blood splattered over the control panel, the cockpit lights blinked out, and Padmé fell once again into the horrific pits of unconsciousness…

* * *

Obi-Wan lost track of time as he sat there, weeping for his lost friend, and only the familiar tap-tap-tap of a cane broke him free from the sorrowful reverie. He rose himself up and turned in surprise to see Master Yoda emerge from the hovering clouds of dust and smoke. 

"Master Kenobi," the small Jedi said gently, setting his eyes first on the unfortunate Jedi, then onto poor Mace. "Oh, Master Kenobi," he murmured again, pacing to his side and placing his tiny, clawed hand over Mace's brow, shutting his eyes to the world, "So much grief. So much pain."

"I'm sorry Master Yoda," Obi-Wan sobbed, "I tried to save him, I tried…"

He broke down under this weight of grief once more and felt Yoda's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Know this, I do. Oh, know this I do," Yoda hushed him, "The days grow only darker for the Jedi. Head up, Master Kenobi. Yet alive, you are. Yet strong."

"We shouldn't have sent him away!" Obi wept on, "We shouldn't have let them send him away!"

Yoda's brow creased as he realised who Kenobi was talking about.

"We've got to find him - it's not too late!" he continued, "Master Yoda, he was the Chosen One! Master Jinn died for him - and look what I've done! I've gone back on his word, his dying wish! What have I done? We must get him back - it can't be too late, it -"

Yoda placed a firm hand on Obi-Wan's arm, "Too late it is, Master Obi-Wan."

Obi's brow furrowed, "It's never too late."

Yoda's eyes closed beneath the weight of the hour. "Gone he is." He looked straight into Kenobi's eyes. "Lost is he."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Ambushed he was. And gone he has."

"He's not dead!"

Yoda shook his head. "No, Master Obi-Wan, he is not."

For some reason, the way Yoda said this made Obi-Wan feel awful and unsettled. He got to his feet, giving Mace one final look, before he arched his head back and stared into the grey skies, cradling his broken wrist in his arms.

"Strange things are happening, Master Kenobi. Knows what he is doing, the Sith Lord does."

Obi-Wan sighed and blew his hair out of his eyes.

"Other matters at hand we have right now," Yoda then went on, "Other Jedi we have to aid."

He placed his little hand against Obi-Wan's leg and looked up at him. "Bid Master Windu goodbye, we do tonight," he whispered, glancing sadly at the body of his good friend, "And our remaining friends, begin to help from tomorrow, we do."

Obi sighed and nodded mournfully.

* * *

"Padmé." 

Her vision swam. She could hear running water. Groaning, she tried to open her eyes. Her body ached, especially her head.

"Steady now."

Her eyelids yielded and she stared into a green canopy, far above. Her vision came into focus and she tried to get up, but her neck was stiff and the rest of her body didn't wish to comply. She felt a helping hand support the back of her head and she was brought up into a sitting position, leaning over onto the shoulder of this other.

"There we go, steady," Dooku went on in a quiet voice.

She didn't argue with him - she tried to recollect what had happened, and stared around her. There was an almost tableau-like scene before her: she was in a forest filled with grand, thick redwoods and thorny bushes. Vines hung between the trees like empty washing lines between tenements, swaying in the unerring stillness of the atmosphere, stirred by some invisible force, whilst, to her left, there was a creek, into which a small waterfall trickled, descending down from a brook above. Unseen birds chirped in the branches, and strange feral calls echoed throughout the woods.

She closed her eyes and swallowed, bringing her hand up to rest on Serenn's chest as he held her whilst she regained her senses; she felt light-headed, which was not surprising, and her temples ached. She didn't have to see her reflection to know that there was a bruised cut on her forehead.

Once she felt sure she could support herself, she pushed the Count away from her and looked at him sheepishly; she hated this, where he always seemed to be aiding her. Why was she always the one to get injured, or to black out? It made her feel inadequate and weak, and she knew she was neither of those things.

He wasn't exactly free of injury himself, though - he sported a fine gash across his forehead and another at his shoulder, whilst his clothes were torn here and there. She looked down at her own body and saw a similar scenario, her garments scuffed and hands filthy, and she finally reached up to touch the focal point of the ache in her head. She felt dried blood and tender contusions across her own scalp and winced at it.

"You've been rather concussed," Serenn said to her, "I was beginning to fear you'd fallen into a coma of some sort."

She looked back to him, his words taking time for her to comprehend, as though she were somewhat intoxicated; "Where are we?" she asked him.

He glanced down to his lap. "I can't tell you, milady, for I don't know."

She felt her stomach drop, as though a leaden weight had just plummeted into it; "'You _don't know'_'?"

"No," he said, as blandly as before, his apparent indifference only serving to set her further at unease.

She looked around for his ship and found no sign; "Where is it? Where's your ship?"

He nodded back over his shoulder. "Some way back there. Or at least, what's left of it."

Padmé's stomach dropped further still, "'What's left'?"

"Please stop echoing me."

She sighed, choosing to ignore him, and laid back down on the ground as the world began to sway about her, like the view of the land does from the deck of a boat; this was all too much to take in.

"Are we stuck here, then?" she murmured.

He cocked his head to one side as he looked at her upon the ground, then nodded once more. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

She rubbed her head, staring up at the sky above through the windows of the canopy, feeling the tears of absolute inability prod at her half-closed lids. "How are we going to get away from here, then?" she asked, pushing her hysteria down; she had to be strong, on the outside if not on the in-.

"I'm open to suggestions," was his non-too-helpful reply, and he lay down himself, keeping a respectable distance.

She closed her eyes, the silent tears rolling down into the earth. "There has to be a way."

He failed to reply at all this time, and she did not like that. The man with all the smart answers, it would seem, was suddenly as clueless as she was…

A change of subject was in order, or she would fall to pieces. "How long have I been out?" she whispered.

"… A while," he eventually rasped.

She glanced up at the sky whilst the dry leaves rustled beneath her as she shifted her body a little, trying to get more comfortable. "What about you?" she asked.

"I, fortunately, was not rendered inert so had ability enough to make a safe landing here. That is about the best I could do."

"Why were we shot down?" she continued, turning her head so she could see him.

"I might tell you if I knew."

"You _might_?" she spat, sitting up a little too fast and sending a rush of blood to her head. She swayed a little and slowly laid herself back down. Serenn just watched her, a small smile on his lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she eventually continued, her voice more quiet, "Are you saying that if you knew you might _not_ tell me?"

He paused for a moment, admiring her ability to see through the twists and turns of his ambiguous language, before saying simply, "Yes."

"So you do know?" she said.

Again, he didn't say anything.

"You have an idea, though, don't you?" she pushed on.

He still didn't answer.

Her hand absentmindedly sought out his wrist, stretching out across the space between them and taking it in her grasp. "Tell me, Serenn," she whispered.

He watched her again with a look in his eyes Padmé could only call prudent. "I can't," he muttered, "Not now."

She sighed, releasing him. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

His chest broadened as he heaved a great sigh and stared up himself at the leafy canopy; "We have been imprisoned here. And here we shall be held until we are needed. And you would have been quite safe if you had just listened to me and -"

"Spare me…" she groaned, folding her arms and rolling onto her side, back facing him.

He sighed and stopped talking - it would do no good to dwell on 'ifs' and 'buts' now.

"The war's over, then?" Padmé went on after a moment.

"Oh no," Serenn said, shaking his head and watching a spider scuttle up over his chest, then down onto the earth again, "General Grievous is still out there. He'll champion my cause in our absence."

Padmé shuddered. "That doesn't comfort me in the slightest," she grumbled. She curled her knees up into her chest and clutched them into her body, her eyes drooping.

"Sleep," Serenn insisted, "I know you're still tired."

"I can't sleep here."

"You'll be safe."

"It's not that…"

"Isn't it?"

She bit her lip, her mind overflowing with endless thoughts and troubles. "How can I sleep? I can't - I'm in a strange place, trapped here, with…"

He laughed quietly. "Ah yes… with me. I'll go elsewhere if you'd prefer."

She rolled back round to face him and rose up onto her elbow. "No, don't leave me," she said suddenly.

He looked her up and down. "Fine," he said, "I'll stay here."

She looked sheepish again. "I just don't want to be alone… not here."

"Perfectly reasonable. Now just relax."

She gave him a critical look, but didn't move. She was confused by her own feelings, yet she couldn't help but remember how she had let him soothe her into a false sense of security before, and how terribly that episode had cumulated. However, there was something different about the man before her now. "Can I trust you?" she asked.

He waited a moment, allowing her to study his face, before he gave her an affirmative nod.

After staring at him for a while longer, Padmé gave the Count an acquiescing nod of her own, seeming content with this, before she closed her eyes, laid back down flat and soon slumbered easily on the ground.

Serenn sighed, pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep himself - he had far too many troubled thoughts brewing in his mind, none of which had any intention of letting him rest - so he just lay back and watched the stars fill the distant sky above, winking at him just through the canopy.

* * *

"Well?" 

"It is done."

"Excellent. Where are they?"

"Sauria, a wild, uncivilised planet. Like Dagobah, but more dangerous."

"Hmm… Sauria. That's not so far from Alderaan. You cut it a bit too close - they might have made it."

"But they did not."

"No, indeed."

"What are we to do with them now?"

"Do? We aren't to do anything. They are to stay there until I need them again."

"Why did he walk into our trap? He isn't so stupid as to forgo your pleasure without foresight of knowing the consequences... He knew you would punish him for his insolence, didn't he?"

"Yes, of course he did. I'm sure he expected something - he would have sensed something amiss, no doubt - but he might have his reasons for being so blind… Perhaps he has lost his rational to a certain young lady. Who knows?"

A sulky pause from the other. "And now?"

"You rest, my friend. We have much more work to do."

"As you wish, my Master."

* * *

The marble pillars and tiled floors of the Nubian palace formed in the hologram before Grievous. The Droid General watched the space with an incredible patience whilst, the pair of Koorivans, Argente and Purple, looked on with curiosity. The magistrate and his aide were now settled in relative comfort in their new base on Yavin, and, being in such a secure position themselves, now sought to find fuel to feed their petty needs, where they revelled in seeing others wallowing in less fortunate circumstances than themselves. 

General Grievous soon allowed his mind to wander as he waited; he had recently heard word that he had lost his outpost at Chandrilla before he had even had a chance to establish it. Shu Mai had failed miserably; but it was of no matter. He could always try again. That particular failure was perhaps more down to Master Kenobi than Shu Mai, anyway - that Jedi had a habit of upturning everything.

Grievous permitted himself a snicker - he should have killed young Obi-Wan. The man was still on-planet now, he knew, but he would soon be gone; there was nothing for Kenobi here - except an early death, if his presence persisted. Grievous promised himself, though, that if Dooku did indeed become a casualty of the war, then the Count's precious Jedi friend would soon follow. Warriors as proficient as Obi-Wan would not long be allowed to live under General Grievous's regime. Their existence was too expensive a risk.

Grievous blinked and returned his focus to the present. The Trade Federation, at his Nubian outpost, had apparently received a startling piece of intelligence, courtesy of their spy network - so startling, in fact, that they had had guts enough to contact the Droid General. It was getting to the point, though, that Grievous was actually wondering whether or not he was going to hear this news at all, for he had been stood waiting for almost five minutes now, and the hologram before him remained conspicuously empty; punctuality, he contemplated blackly, would also be enforced on pain of death in his regime.

His catlike pupils constricted and he drew a long breath into his metal-housed chest, indulging himself once again upon the satisfied feeling of his victory here at Yavin. He would soon leave the Corporate Alliance in charge, once he was satisfied this outpost was stable, and he would also soon be free of young Fett, who he knew Poggle the Lesser would be less than happy to take guardianship of - but he wasn't going to give the Geonosian Archduke a choice; a few more years, and Boba would be able to easily fend for himself. The boy was practically at adulthood already. His body just needed to catch up with his mind.

It was several minutes later when the General finally found his thoughts interrupted by a squabble going on, via the transmission, in hushed breaths. The arguers were out of range of the hologram picture, but audible nevertheless:

"You tell him!"

"Me? Send a droid!"

"You can't send droids for everything, Nute…"

There was a scuffle as someone was pushed across the floor; "Then I send you!"

The feet retreated. "You're the viceroy! And you said he needed to know!"

"Yes, I did - but I didn't say I wanted to tell him myself! I didn't sign up for this…"

Grievous would have grinned inwardly if he hadn't found it so pathetic; "What is it, Viceroy?" he asked, his voice reverberating across the room and through the transmission to Theed.

The two Neimoidians, Nute Gunray and his aide, stopped bickering immediately and jumped into the picture of the hologram, as though they feared the General might be able to do something to them, even from that distance; "Well, we have had word…" Gunray dithered, stepping back a little as the Droid General turned his skeletal face on him, "That, er… well…"

"Count Dooku," the aide piped in, "He has left Oovo IX… yet can be found no where! We have lost contact with him."

Grievous blinked once, very slowly, and nodded. "I see."

"What shall we do?" the aide continued whilst Gunray shrank into a quivering blob.

"Do?" Grievous asked, "What can we do?"

The aide looked between Nute and the General, feeling as though he ought to reply. Grievous continued before he could, however; "We shall continue with or without the Count. He has requested this of me."

"He has…?" Nute squeaked.

Grievous gave him another brief glare. "Yes, Viceroy," he growled, sweeping his cloak out behind him and looking hard at the two. "What else?"

Gunray and the aide exchanged glances. "Erm…" the aide muttered, remembering, with little confidence, that there indeed was something else to tell, "It would seem that there are changes being made in the Republic…"

Grievous didn't move. "Yes?"

"Word has it that the Chancellor is planning to institute some new order…"

"Yes."

"Some say he may go as far as… disbanding the Jedi!"

"Indeed?"

The aide quietened. The Droid General seemed to be in the know, or was just very difficult to surprise.

"What shall we do, General?" Gunray muttered in his 'we're doomed' voice.

Grievous turned and gazed away, tapping his clawed feet idly against the ground; "The Chancellor wants rid of the Jedi. That is all too clear now. The people have wanted it for some time; their mistrust and paranoia has led them to make scapegoats of the Jedi Knights. They will have their way. The Chancellor will need men to lead his army thereafter, and he knows that normal men are weaker than the Jedi. They will do as they are told. He will have complete, unchallenged control once the Jedi are gone. And he realises that."

Grievous halted and glared at the two Neimoidians; "The Jedi will not go easily, but the sooner they go, the better. 'Mortal' men are more fallible."

"Do you think so?" Nute asked.

"It doesn't take me long to kill a Jedi, Viceroy, but it takes me even less time to kill a mortal man."

Gunray swallowed, rubbing his throat in a nervous gesture; "Of course…" he muttered.

"We will fight on," Grievous continued, "Whilst the Republic - or whatever the Chancellor will rename his constitution after he has pushed his next bill through - is preoccupied with its own affairs, we shall prepare a strike at the capital. And before they know what has hit them, we shall overthrow them. There will be no negotiations. There will be no one left to negotiate_ with_."

Nute was blubbering now.

Grievous looked at him. "Happy with that, Viceroy?"

Gunray swallowed. "Yes," he squeaked.

"Good. Carry on. I will call for your assistance if I need it."

The hologram went blank, and, as he turned, Grievous noticed that Argente and Purple made to look busy as fast as they could, their tense manner virtually shouting out to him that they had been eavesdropping. The General let them be and skulked off for some solitude - the news had surprised him, in fact; he had had no doubt that Dooku would go missing, but he hadn't believed that it would be quite so soon. Whether or not Dooku was now dead was another thing altogether - he doubted it, personally - but it all begged the question of what was _really _going on in this war.

* * *

The Count watched Padmé's eyelashes flutter a little and her chest slowly rise and fall. She stirred, sighing in her sleep, troubled by uneasy dreams. And who could blame her? 

As he reached out and tentatively stroked the skin of her hand, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted. It was a hard sensation to explain, but it felt as though someone had taken a chisel to that most sacred of places - the inner sanctum of his mind - and broken it ruthlessly open with a deafening crack. Serenn ground his teeth together, his head jutting backward and his spine constricting. He clutched his head, pushing himself backward into a nearby tree trunk, whilst his consciousness was torn open and invaded by a cold and angry voice:

/What do you think you are playing at/ it thundered.

The Count breathed heavily, recovering from the painful explosion in his mind - but he did not reply the voice and did his best to ignore it.

/Who is this 'General' you have unleashed? This was not part of our plan/ it went on.

Serenn glared harder and harder into the middle distance, keeping a watch on Padmé as though cautious to protect her from the disembodied voice. He still did not speak.

/Will you not answer me, Tyranus/

His eyes narrowed. He tried to keep ignoring the voice and tried to push it out of his head… but it wasn't that simple.

/So, it is as I feared. You will no longer answer./

He gathered his resolve and shook his head. "No," he whispered.

A short pause.

/Fine./ the voice growled/Have it your way. You will stay there until I take it upon myself to 'discover' you again…/

Finally, the voice left, and Serenn found his mind to be his own once more. He swallowed, burying his head in his hands, his mind throbbing with a sudden migraine. "Just bring it…" he breathed.

**TBC…**


	38. Grievous's War

**Author's Notes:** Be warned, people, I now have my **galactic map** handy! I can see where all my battles are taking place, and also how badly I cocked up on locations of these planets before hand, if I have indeed. I must confess that (and I think I've mentioned it before) I don't 'hold truck' with the Expanded SW Universe but, because I need more planets than the films give me to use in this story, I shall concede to those of the EU regardless. Call me a hypocrite if you will - I'm one of these people who will use the EU when it suits me, then discard it. Creative license. I'd rather I used already 'existing' SW locations than have to force you all to read the silly names of planets I made up. But please note that Oovo IX and Chandrilla - two places I've chosen to use - aren't on my map at all, so I've had to just use my imagination and guess whereabouts they are - and Sauria is a planet I definitely made up, and is the only one at that.

Don't think I hate all the EU, I'm just not overly fond of it, that's all. I love the films over everything else - no one can deny that they are the true "Star Wars", seeing as they come from its creator.

I must apologise in advance for the terrible, long and tedious introduction to this chapter, BTW. It's awful…

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 38 - Grievous's War**

And so the war continued. There was little or no change in the methods utilised by the Confederacy, so they were no more conspicuous without Count Dooku at their helm than they had been with him, but the factions that made up their numbers did wonder, in hushed breaths, what had become of the man. (Padmé, of course, was soon forgotten.) Gunray, a great gossip and always one to jump to conclusions, alleged that General Grievous had killed the Count and retained some of his body parts for himself - and so disliked and feared was Grievous, that even the more intelligent members of the Separatists didn't mind indulging in this myth. They mistrusted the Droid General greater than could be imagined, yet no one dared defy his authority. There was no reason to suspect him of any foul doings, anyway - it was only the prejudice of the Confederate lackeys that played against him. In fact - all apprehensions aside - Grievous had done as good a job as any in leading the Separatist forces and had kept the Republic army most fervently occupied in his master's absence.

Meanwhile, on the opposite front, General Kenobi championed the Republic cause, with Yoda in support; and though the diminutive Jedi Master rarely took to the field himself , his hand could still be felt in many of the Republic's plans of attack. The Jedi numbers were meanwhile all the time diminishing, and there was a growing tension in the Republic, a great aura of misgiving, where everyone knew that something was about to happen, some great change, yet no one could quite put their finger on what this would be - and no one was about to talk about it, either.

The aristocracy, however, were noticeably all 'sharpening their swords' in the meantime…

It would be impossible to chronicle every battle and encounter that happened over the ensuing months, so one will have to make do with using their imaginations to envision the scale and protracted length of this conflict.

Envisage the galactic map of the Republic: in the centre are the planets of the Deep Core, filled with the Core Worlds of Coruscant, Ruan, Khomm and others of the likes. As we move out, we reach the territory of the Inner Rim, the zones of the trading routes and the prosperous planets of Nubia, Alderaan and those clustered in the Corellian Sector, including Neimoidia, Cato Neimoidia and Carida. We then move into the Mid Rim, where the likes of Kashyyyk and Trandosha lay, then even further out into the Outer Rim, an area densely populated by hundreds of worlds. If one wishes to dare move beyond this 'final frontier', then the notorious reaches of 'Wild Space' are what one would be greeted with, territories which are untouched by the Republic's jurisdiction. What this adds up to is a picture of hundreds of planets residing in thousands of parsecs of space, and all this up for the taking in the Clone Wars.

As we have left it, we have General Grievous on Yavin with the Corporate Alliance, Shu Mai trounced at Chandrilla, the Trade Federation at Naboo, Jedi Knight Kit Fisto out at Mon Calamari, and others of the Order engaged at Rodia, Corellia and Muunilinst, to name but a few.

The Separatists soon had a firm camp at Yavin, from which Grievous extended the Confederacy's tentacles into the nearby planet Toprawa, then on through the unresisting Serenno, Bimmiel and Gravelex Med. Just beyond this chain was Dantooine, a planet the Droid General almost felt it beneath him to go out and conquer. He therefore left it to the Corporate Alliance to take charge of this operation, and he subsequently turned the attention of the armies of the Techno Union down into the nearby Merdian Sector. If the Union conquered this, Grievous would have control over a substantial amount of space, which verged on the Mid Rim. Wat Tambor therefore set his forces simultaneously upon the planets Phindar and Gala of this Merdian Sector, and hoped for the best.

Chandrilla had been saved by the Republic, which had pleased both Mon Mothma and the planet's thankful Prime Minister. Shu Mai wasn't one to be so easily frightened away, though - not when she had Grievous at her back - so she re-camped nearby upon Tarhassen, bordering on the so-called 'Expansion Regions' of the galaxy, close to Bothan Space. The Republic battalions at Chandrilla, therefore, upon Master Kenobi's orders - rather than follow him to Yavin, as per their earlier instructions - were to continue to chase the Gossam and her forces and to engage her at Tarhassen.

Satisfied with the face of things, Grievous looked to the Mon Calamari dispute. This battle looked likely to end in favour of the Republic - yet this was not a problem. Mon Calamari, for those not in the know, sits on the very fringe of the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim, and is very much an isolated world. In order to inhibit the Republic at this outpost, the Droid General sent Senator Tikkes, a Quarren native of this world, to the nearest planet of Munto Codru, a position from which he hoped, if Codru was taken, he could squeeze the Republic out of their remote base on Calamari. The Republic were not about to take this lying down, though, so Kit Fisto, with Mon Calamari secure, soon took up his forces again and approached the Separatists at Munto Codru.

Muunilinst had fallen into Separatist hands, unfortunately for the Republic fighting there, and because it was so near Dantooine - the only planet, we must not forget, that separated Muunilinst from Grievous's planetary chain of Gravelex Med through to Yavin - that the Republic opted to withdraw into the Core Worlds rather than take it upon themselves to liberate such a row of steadfast Confederate planets.

Meanwhile, in the thick of the Corellian sector, the Republic had had better fortunes than elsewhere. Corellia was firmly theirs, as was the nearby planetary cluster of Selonia, Froz and Duro. The Separatists here had backtracked to Cato Neimoidia, from whence they held their ground, this being a Trade Federation stronghold. And there the fighting continued, much to the dismay of the Neimoidians who lived there and felt that their lives had been barbarically intruded upon.

Down at Rodia, things had again gone surprisingly well for the Republic as forces led by Shaak Ti took the Rodian homeworld for themselves and drove the Separatists back into Falleen, a planet infamous as being a base for the criminal organisation 'Black Sun'. Enjoying a good conflict, Black Sun opted to defend the Separatists that had retreated there out of sheer spite, and gave themselves to Count Dooku's movement with little or no trouble. The fight here then fell to something of a stalemate, with the Republic trying to invade Falleen, and the Separatists trying to invade Rodia in turn, each never seeming to quite get one over the other.

As all this was happening over the months, General Grievous was all the time on the move; he was the pillar that supported the foundation of the Confederacy in the Count's absence, and, as he moved about the web of conflicts he had wrought, he brought fortune to whomever's presence he favoured, and it did not take long for the Republic - the Jedi Councils on Coruscant in particular, who met virtually every other day to discuss the matters of the war - to see a pattern emerging. Jedi were lost and battalions often felled wherever this General was reported to have been sighted. It would be wise, they thought, to destroy this General and to wipe this most deadly threat from the face of their enemies, but they could keep no tabs on the guy. He disappeared as quickly as he had come, adding always to his list of murdered Jedi as he went. He had to be stopped, but no one could hazard a guess as to how - no one had ever met anything like him before, so no one knew how to fight him…

Count Dooku all the time still remained unheard of, but the wars just ravaged on without him.

Later in the conflicts, Ki-Adi Mundi departed to defend his homeworld of Cerea from a new Separatist threat, and Oppo Rancisis left to ensure a suspicious presence of Commerce Guild craft were not about to enter Kamino, as they hovered around Gamorr, not far away. Aalya Secura won Eriadu to the Republic, despite its locality to Sullust, but lost Omwat, Xagobah and the nearby Clak'dor VII, despite all her efforts.

Adi Gallia took to the front at Bespin, but this fell swiftly to Grievous's armies. She then, at Ki-Adi's behest, aided his battle at Cerea and forced a Separatist retreat to Rattatak, which held its ground for the secessionists and gave them its full allegiance and protection, much to Gallia and Mundi's dismay.

Obi-Wan took Kiffex & Kiffu as well as Bassadro on the path know as the Rimma Trade Route, earning many plaudits for his clear and intelligent tactics, which left at least one branch of the Confederacy reeling further out into the Inner Rim, toward the Mid-. However, Grievous put his foot down and claimed Thyferra and Yag'dhul not much further down the Rimma, and thence cut off an important trade route for the Republic, much to Obi's chagrin. The Jedi General didn't let this phase him, though, and he moved across to the Corellian Trade Spine, another well-used route, and made the planet Devaron a Republic outpost. Grievous's conquering of Bestine, again not far down this route, cut this one off to the Core Worlds, too, though. All-in-all, the two Generals were playing some very tactful chess.

Thankfully, the Perlemian Trade Route, which stretched from Coruscant itself right out passed Taanab, to the Outer Rim, was not badly affected, so there was one road to the capital free from blockade, a blockade which everyone knew could starve it. The galaxy's most vast and lengthy trade route, the Hydian Way, was also fairly clear, bar the fact that it cut across the chain of Grievous's planets, between Serenno and Toprawa, which meant that at least one corner of the Outer Rim was cut off by the secessionists, leaving the planets from Telos right out to Bonadan, near the 'Tingel Arm', isolated.

Master Yoda boldly defended Ithor on the front lines, near Ord Mantell, and keeping this planet for the Republic, then returned to Coruscant, ready to plan the next move for the sprawling Republic forces.

So, as it now stood, Obi was still engaged in combat, this time on the Corellian Run, where he held the Separatists down at Tynna, and things were reported to be going his way. Kit Fisto had been called from Munto Codru to help with a sudden attack upon Raxus in the small Tion Cluster, and, in the meantime, Ki-Adi Mundi, with his homeworld secure, had returned to Coruscant, and sent Adi Gallia down to aid Riflor, which looked set to fold under Separatist pressures if an intervention wasn't soon made.

And after these many months, there was _still _no sign of Count Dooku.

* * *

The problem, the Sith Master resolved, was the Jedi. Everything was set, but the Jedi were still in the way. And then there was the problem of this General Grievous as well, a Droid General over which he had no control - a puppet of Dooku's own making. Sidious stroked his chin - yes, he would credit Dooku for his double-dealing - it was only natural of such a reckless former Jedi to continue to prove an irritant for whatever master took him under his wing. Once a rebel, always a rebel; the man was never going to change in that respect.

Another factor of the Count that had not been lost was his passion, his fervent emotion - this linked to his rebelliousness, no doubt, but this was a factor that could void the problem of the man's disobedience. It was his greatest flaw. Sidious could recall it in the past - the notorious Master Dooku, loyal to his Padawans above his Councils, and to his own code rather than that of the Jedi. And just now, when all trace of his passion had seemed to be lost, it appeared that it had found a new niche in the persona of young Padmé. She would soon prove his downfall - he could sense it.

Sidious nodded slowly to himself - he often found his plans filled with problems which manifested along the way. He also found that, rather than act on impulse, he should let these problems run their courses. Grievous and Count Dooku would sort their own fates - all he need do, as Sith Master, was prod them in the right direction every now and then; Serenn's fate was practically all but sealed, whilst Grievous's… well, Grievous was an anomaly, and anomalies always faded in the end.

"The Separatists are being… unproductive, my Master," suddenly said the other in the room.

Sidious turned from the window and looked to the figure, who was leant back against the wall and almost swallowed up by the shadows in the corner.

"I know," the Sith Master replied.

"And the Republic Army are stationed all over the galaxy… widely spread and weak because of it. Is this the way you want to win your war?"

Sidious smirked gently. "No, of course it isn't… My forces are only trying to prevent, sometimes even predict, the moves of the Confederacy's General. We cannot fight him until we know where he is, now, can we?"

"The Separatist's General is a haphazard warlord," the stranger growled, "His plans show no consistency and he strikes wherever he pleases. He has gained further outposts over the weeks, this is true, but what use are they to him? We thought the Separatists were trying to close a ring round us, but there is now no pattern in their conquests. They simply have blocked a few trade routes and have sprawling bases beyond the Core Worlds, which are of little use to anyone. I do not understand him, Master. What is his design?"

"I cannot read his mind, my friend. I can but gather that he has something planned."

"He's going to run his coffers dry if he's not careful."

Sidious disagreed. "He has plenty of good supply routes at his back, especially now he commands some of our trade routes. Besides, he can get everything he needs from the many Outer Rim planets that are loyal to him. He, at least, does not have the living troops to feed, like we do, which is of some advantage, and I am certain that he can keep this kind of fight up for a long time, if he so wishes."

"Then we may as well call it a stalemate. There is no progress to be had for either side!"

"I believe he is waiting for a breakthrough."

"A breakthrough?" the stranger scoffed, "He'll never get one, especially if Kenobi keeps up his act."

"We cannot be sure."

"Master, this is frustrating! What are we hanging around for?"

"A sign."

"What sign?"

Sidious snickered under his breath and made to leave the room. The figure watched the Sith Master pass and bowed his head at the man as he did so - Sidious's mind worked on a level that his did not, and he could only admire the man for it.

"I shall know when it comes, my boy," Sidious went on, "Everything is about balance and timing. You speak of the war as if you think I have no control over it - on the contrary, I have much control. I have lost my strings to the Separatists, I grant you, but that is of no concern." He chortled coolly to himself; "We must be patient… The Sith have waited two thousand years for this. I shall not disgrace my grandmasters by acting on _your_ impulse now."

The rebuke felt, the other silenced and let the situation lie. There was no need to question the Sith Master further.

* * *

Sauria was one of those forgotten planets, one that had never troubled the outside world with its presence, and one that the outside world did not trouble in return. As an uncivilised planet, a hermit amongst its neighbours, it was not unsurprising that it wasn't a nice place for people, from the more civilised worlds, to stay. As a prison, though, it served its purpose, being a place full of danger, misery and - most important of all - inescapable incarceration.

It was now several weeks, perhaps even months, since Count Dooku and Padmé had been stranded there. The planet was covered with an endless, thick woodland, with an atmosphere hot and sultry by day, cold and harsh by night. Insects were often more poisonous than appearances would allow and dangerous animals roamed all over the place by day, and worse monstrosities populated the jungles at night. There was no relief - even the plants were, in general, unfriendly things. Even so, the pair had managed to survive - Serenn knew that they had not been left there to die, and, as much as he sometimes wished for an end, he knew he had yet duties to fulfil.

The first few days had been bearable, the first few weeks even, but now, as the long days ground slowly past, Padmé couldn't help but begin to feel panic. She was afraid that this was _it _- that there would be nothing more; she felt as though trapped in some kind of limbo, in a place where nothing moved forward, just side-to-side. With neither of them having any means by which to contact the outside universe, all seemed lost. She couldn't bear to think about it, but with so much time on her hands, her thoughts ultimately could only turn back to her predicament. She wasn't even sure whether or not she were thankful for Serenn's company - he was withdrawn and quiet, and everything she had deemed him not to be. Being alone might just drive her mad, however, and even if conversation between her and the Count had become awkward at the best of times, just knowing that he was there was some comfort.

Today was unsurprisingly like every other day, and they had been travelling through the thick forests for some time. Each day, they started their journey at dawn and finished it as the sun set. This journey always entailed looking for fresh water, for they had no supplies, and looking for some kind of food. For Padmé, that had mostly meant fruit and vegetation; Serenn tended to prefer some kind of meat in his diet, and often killed small, rabbit-like creatures to provide this, but Padmé soon found that she could not stomach eating something she had seen alive beforehand. Dooku didn't have any qualms, and he probably got the better meal out of it, but he allowed Padmé her principles.

One can only imagine the state these two were in now. With one set of clothes each, everything else having been lost with the Solar Sailor, they took on the appearance of a ragged, wandering and destitute couple of people. Their garments were torn and filthy, and their bodies equally so. The injuries they had sustained upon crashing in this forsaken land had barely healed, and were joined every other day by new companions, which were inflicted at the hands of the savage environment in one way or another. Reminding them even more of the passage of time was the length of their hair; though Padmé hadn't really taken much notice of her brown locks, the fact that the Count's now reached his shoulders must have been testament to the duration of their captivity.

Padmé kept as close to Serenn as she could as they continued with their trek, for the man seemed to have some notion of direction. The thought had never actually occurred to her of asking Serenn how he knew where he was going, or where it was he was exactly heading for, but those kind of thoughts only threatened to deepen her well of despair, so were best left unsaid.

After a long, sullen silence, excepting the rustling of the foliage and the snapping of twigs, the two suddenly heard a deep roar in the distance. A host of bats consequently tore through the trees overhead, fleeing from the sound. Then there was nothing.

From the quality of the light, Padmé gathered it was nearing twilight, but time wasn't exactly coherent anymore. She gave the dark woods a sceptical glare, before she finally broke the long silence and asked, "You _do _know where you're going, don't you?"

"No, not really," he replied, rather disconcertingly, in a way that suggested they had been in the middle of a lively conversation.

She stopped completely and gaped at him in horror; "Then where, for the Force's sake, have we been walking for these past few weeks…? These past few _months_?"

He turned to look at her; "To somewhere safer, I hope."

She choked up a harsh laugh; "'Safer'?"

"Yes. Everyone knows strange forests are never a good place in which to stay."

She blinked at him and could do nothing but shake her head in a numb disbelief. "I hate you sometimes, you know," she murmured.

"Only sometimes?" he said, "My, I am making progress."

After ten more minutes of slothful trekking, they halted for a break. Padmé didn't say anything, but she welcomed the rest, for her feet were killing her. To make matters worse, as well, the panic was taking hold again, that helpless fear: 'What if this is it?' she thought 'What if we're never going to get off here? What am I going to do? What's happening out there in the universe? What will my parents think? Where is Anakin?'

Whilst Padmé was oblivious, Serenn sat watching her for some time. The young Nubian was in deep thought, her eyes staring forward yet not seeing, and it wasn't long before she began to rock her body a little, forward and backward, occasionally raising a hand to her face to wipe a tear from her eye.

The Count chewed on his tongue and seated himself on a fallen tree trunk, staring up into the hazy mist of the woodland, the green fading to an inky black as the light shrank from the horizon and gave itself up to the folds of darkness. Padmé was afraid. He didn't need the Force to tell him that. But was he afraid? No… he was ashamed, he was frustrated, but he was not afraid. He wished Sidious would just get a move on and have it over with. The Sith Master was clearly waiting for something, but Serenn hadn't a clue what this exactly was. He just knew it couldn't possibly be him.

* * *

Obi-Wan ran a finger up-and-down his wrist, the one that had not so long ago been broken, and which was now recovered. Since Mace's death, Kenobi had found a new focus, a new drive to see these wars fought and won. He didn't know from whence this came or for what reason - perhaps it was because he was losing everything he had ever thought was worth fighting for, and now all that was left was simply to fight. Whether he lived or died might not really matter - what was there for him now? What future was there? If there was nothing for him, he at least could fight for others… and that was what he was doing.

He had been all over the galaxy, helping battles here, starting them there, but he had one main objective in mind, and that was to face this General Grievous again. Count Dooku had truly disappeared - no one knew where he had gone or what he was doing, which was all very suspicious - and this _thing_, part droid, part man, this 'Grievous', was the Count's replacement, and was a damn good one, too. This Droid General didn't have any oratory gifts, that was certain - that had been Dooku's department - but that was hardly important; the time for talking was long past. It was all about the war, and this General had the fighting down to a 'T'. Any Jedi who crossed this Thing - all except him, Obi hastened to recall - had lost their lives. This Grievous was a killing machine that had to be stopped.

"But how…?" Obi pondered, leaning his head against the transparasteel window in his quarters, aboard his flagship.

There were no other Jedi in Obi-Wan's convoy - there were no longer any to spare. Instead, he found himself armed with what the press had called the 'mortal militia' - men and women who were not Force-attuned. This didn't bother Obi-Wan - or it wouldn't have if these people hadn't made their contempt for the Jedi well known to him. Obi was all for tolerance, but these people were driving him mad. Palpatine had confessed that he had had no choice, but these people were slowly taking over the army, and Obi could tell that the day wasn't far off when they would run it altogether.

Something was afoot, but it was something too insidious and too inconspicuous to be able to be dealt with.

* * *

"What makes you think that these things don't live in trees?" Padmé grumbled as the Count hoisted himself up a redwood and tested the branches.

"They don't," he insisted, looking down at her for a moment before climbing further aloft and trying the higher boughs for their capacity to hold heavy loads.

It had become routine, at the Count's insistence, that they spent their nights in the treetops, for nowhere was it more dangerous to lie unawares than upon the floor. Or so he thought. Padmé despised the entire arrangement, but trusted the Count enough on the matter to make herself go through with it.

It was at this moment that the mysterious roar, the one they had earlier heard, decided to again echo eerily through the woods, sounding as if it were almost next to Padmé.

She turned around and stared after it, looking into the ever-thickening darkness of the foliage and trying to pick out some movement, some sign of this vocal but invisible creature. "What is that?" she murmured, "We've been hearing it for days…" She shook her head and drew her long, unruly hair out of her eyes before looking back up to Count.

"How big are these things?" she asked.

"I can't tell you until I see one, Padmé," Dooku said, lowering himself down from a high branch and dropping smoothly onto a lower one. Padmé shook her head at him - he only seemed to get younger every day, and she half envied him for such vigour. Turning her head, she consequently made one more pass of the woods, certain there was something out there, before she once again looked back to Dooku. And then she yelled, "SERENN!"

* * *

Obi-Wan was in ungrateful company as the top dogs of his Republic convoy congregated around a holo-map of their sector of space. They were on the verge of the Mid Rim, not far from the last battle site at Tynna, which they had unfortunately lost. The crew resolved that they should try to reclaim the planet, but Obi felt it was a waste of time - they had lost Tynna and had to concentrate on preventing the loss of any more planets. The crew had reluctantly agreed to this, and now sought to discover where it would be that the Separatists would next strike.

Obi-Wan felt incredibly uneasy, though. Something kept niggling at the back of his mind that wouldn't rest, yet he could not find out what it was or what it meant. He tried to keep this apprehension in check as he listened to the debate going on before him, as some of the galaxy's top aristocrats debated their next moves.

"They'll be hiding around here," said one, pointing to a host of planetary satellites on the edge of the Bothan sector of space, where Cularin and Lannik lay, "They would be hard to detect, and there is plenty of cover from the nearby Asteroid Fields..."

"Don't be absurd," another rallied, "They are a _droid _army - there is far too much cause for interference for them to be able to operate there… radioactive material and so-forth."

"What makes you think they _are _hiding?" a thin, stern man asked, "That we are the hunters, and not they?"

Obi looked up to this man - there was something in this one's demeanour, in his very voice, that oozed of a pride in his being 'mortal', of being void of the Force. There was something in him that spelt trouble and hatred for the Jedi, and Obi disliked him because of it. The problem with this man was that he was also extremely clever, and those were the worst kind of people to have as enemies.

"I have lived and worked in the Mid- and Outer Rims for a long time," the man went on, walking around the holographic map and watching it with his grey, dispassionate eyes, "Things do not work in black and white like they do in your Core worlds. Everyone is hunted by someone out here. Everyone is in danger at some time or other."

He paused for thought, rubbing his chin, before he pointed at a world on the very edge of the galaxy, at a planet called Rishi, just past Ryloth, on the very tip of the 'Corellian Run' Route. "If they want to fight, they'll draw us out here somewhere," he ascertained, "Then they can move into the vacuum we have left behind, and take our trade route in the process. They have done nothing but draw us out, further and further into battle, for no apparent gains, since the beginning. They will keep doing so until we are too far out of the way to be of any use to our more important systems."

Obi-Wan was highly perceptive and heard the unsaid words of this statement, so, in challenge, he slowly leant forward over the map and locked gazes with the governor, snarling sharply, "We cannot abandon outer planets to Separatist invasion simply to secure our central positions. People are dying."

"It's a lose-lose situation then, isn't it, Master Kenobi?" the man, Wilhuff Tarkin, replied, "It's a mess we cannot get out of without sacrifice."

'Here it comes' Obi sighed inwardly as Tarkin went on and said, "And we would never have gotten into this predicament if your Jedi corps hadn't failed in its duty in the first place."

Obi chewed on his tongue for a second and stepped back from the board. "Then I had better not interfere any further, Governor," he said, bowing curtly and leaving the room.

* * *

Tarkin was right, of course. Grievous was bargaining on the Republic playing the part of outright saviour - it hadn't a choice, really - but Grievous did have a choice, and he thought that if people died, they died. It was a sheer principal of life, and he couldn't care less about it.

"Engage the Republic at Cerea again … and their faction at Raxus, draw them out beyond the Tion Cluster and force them beyond Cholganna - there is nothing for them out there. Also, attack the highest populated areas of the Zhar system, and the mines at Kessel."

Grievous pointed to each of his holographic allies in turn as he fired out these commands, and each one faded as soon as he had laid upon them their next task. "And Poggle," the General growled, looking to the Geonosian Archduke, "ready your next shipment of droids and vessels. Send them to me in ten separate convoys so as to catch as little, if any, attention, as possible. They shall be my strike force against the capital. The atmosphere is just about right… "

And then the Archduke faded, so that only Nute Gunray remained. The Neimoidian looked upon the Droid General with his typical uneasiness.

"Viceroy," Grievous said indolently, appearing to inspect his fingers, "the Republic seem to have forgotten about Naboo."

"They do not seem too concerned, General," Nute conceded.

"Are the people well looked-after?"

"Well, yes, of course, we had no orders to-"

"You see, Viceroy," Grievous interrupted, looking at the absent fingernails on the other hand, "I need to create as much havoc away from the capital as I can."

"Y-yes, I understand -"

"Naboo has been conquered, yet nothing has changed."

"It is a basic principle of conquest to build on what went before, General."

The General's eyes flashed at the Neimoidian. "I do not wish to build on crumbling Republican foundations!" he snapped furiously.

"No, but -"

"I do not believe Count Dooku imparted to me his ultimate meaning for conquering Naboo. Perhaps there was none. It was certainly a blow at the time, but now it is obsolete."

"It may -"

"I do not remember asking you to speak, Viceroy."

"No, I mean -"

Grievous walked in a small circle around Gunray's hologram, his body dipping and his head bobbing as he paced with gigantic strides. "Starve them," he ordered.

Gunray's scaly brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon, General?"

"You had _better_ beg well, for I do not easily give my pardon to anything!" the General snarled, then explained, "I want you to starve them. Tell the Naboo that the Republic has cut off their supply routes - it is a possibility. Tell them anything… Just see to it that we draw the Republic back there."

Gunray had frozen in fright and confusion, but he quickly came back to himself and bowed. "Yes, General," he said.

The Viceroy's hologram couldn't quite fade quick enough.

**TBC…**


	39. Saurian Planet

**Eclipse**

**Part 39 - The Saurian Planet**

Dooku jerked his head round just in time to see a gigantic, thick tail swung through the branches and knock him flying from the tree, away into the darkness!

"_Serenn!_" Padmé cried after him again. Her attention was soon required elsewhere, however, as, charging through the trees came a beast to rival the size of any fambaa. Padmé recoiled quickly until her back hit a tree trunk, and she took a moment to examine the creature: it was a massive, bipedal thing, looking lizard-like, yet covered in a coat of fur. The head was long and thin, with nostrils perched on the tip of its jaw and a fine set of teeth present within. Above each of its smallish eyes was a rise, protruding upwards like a pair of stunted horns, and this head altogether rested on the end of a fairly long neck, which joined a small torso. Longish, thin arms extended from its body, whilst thick, powerful legs, built for running, supported its form. A solid tail completed the picture, an appendage that both gave the creature balance and, as so recently observed, could be used as an offensive weapon. It was notable that this animal's body and features were not so very different in proportion to those of a bird, and, had it been covered in feathers rather than a coat of coarse, brown-and-red fur, Padmé might have thought it to be one - at least one of monstrous proportions.

The creature sniffed after Serenn, looking for the easy prey it had knocked from the tree, until, failing in this, it spied out Padmé, cowering below. It looked at her and blinked, thinking for a moment.

As this beast eyed her up, Padmé took the opportunity to scuttle off to the side. Moving across the ground, she then heard a gentle 'chink' as her foot caught something in the grass. Looking down, she came across the Count's lightsabre, waylaid upon the floor. It must have fallen when he had been hit, she surmised, and, without thinking, she picked it up, and held it before her.

Though there wasn't much light in the woods, what light there was caught the edge of the glittering weapon and dazzled the bipedal beast. The creature cocked its head to one side and then to the other as Padmé held the hilt in vain before her.

Padmé was beginning to think, as she held on to that tiny, fraying thread of hope, that she may actually get away unharmed… that was until this peaceful lull ended with the beast opening its mouth, emitting a great hiss and drawing its head back, ready to strike.

With a cry, Padmé quickly activated the lightsabre and swung it at the animal as its great head, jaws gaping, plunged down toward her. Padmé knew she had hit it when the giant mammal-saurian screeched in turn and drew back, flailing at its face with its thin, stunted arms. She didn't stay to see the fruits of her assault, though, for, discretion being the better part of valour, she just deactivated the hazardous lightsabre and ran off into the woods.

Trees flashed passed as Padmé ran, and she felt thin branches and sharp thorns hit her across her body and face, leaving small scratches all over as she rushed blindly onward. She had no idea where she was heading - all she knew was that she wanted to keep that thing behind her. Her eyes, meanwhile, searched every which way for any sign of Dooku, but the night was closing in so fast now that she had little chance of seeing anything at all. It wasn't long until she knew that her beastly lizard friend was in pursuit, for its giant legs could be heard ruthlessly crushing all the vegetation and greenery in her wake.

"Serenn!" Padmé cried out again, stumbling over a root, before picking herself up and taking a left turning, hoping to throw off the creature. The monster behind followed, though, weaving through the trees as smoothly as a stream through a cove.

"Serenn! Where are you?" she yelled once more.

Padmé turned again, then again, trying in desperation to lose the creature - but it was of no use. It was clearly not slow or stupid.

Things like this didn't happen in real life, Padmé had once thought. So much for that.

"SERENN!" she screamed again.

* * *

Back on Naboo, there was a serious lack of communication between the Trade Federation and the populace. Rather there was currently no communication at all, excepting the fact that a message had been put out over the local holo'-proj' network this morning, announcing a sudden obstruction of the common Nubian trade routes.

"Something's wrong," Jobal said, as she returned home to Ruwee that morning with an empty wicker basket, one that would usually be full after a visit to the market, "They said there were problems with the trading routes, I know, but things don't disappear overnight. There really is _nothing _at market today, as if everything's just… vanished. It's just not possible."

Ruwee looked downcast, his mind filled with worries and concerns. "There's something suspicious about the whole thing, I know," he concurred, but then, shifting restlessly, he voiced the true core of his current worries. "For the Force's sake, where's our Padmé, Jobal?"

Jobal placed her wicker basket aside and took a seat by Ruwee. They were sat in their house's front room, which overlooked the pleasant, cobbled street outside. A troop of battledroids suddenly marched by, though, ruining the view and offering up an unwanted reminder of the Federation's presence. Ruwee turned his lip up at the sight of the beige, bland soldiers and pivoted his seat away from the window; "I'm worried about her," he went on, "Something's been wrong for a long time… and she's just dropped out of the news like a ship into a blackhole."

"I know…" Jobal sighed.

Their conversation, too, faded into an equal state of oblivion as the world, nay, the universe itself, just seemed to just crumble around them. The old idiom was wrong - nothing was fair in love and war.

* * *

Kit Fisto had somehow ended up at Toola. He wasn't sure how, but this war wasn't exactly organised, and he could do very little except what he was told. His Jedi comrades at Mon Calamari, who had afterwards followed him to aid the battle at Raxus, had since fallen in action, and like Master Kenobi and his convoy, replacements had not been found in other Jedi, but in military men and women, selected by the senate, or perhaps even handpicked by the Chancellor himself.

Toola was a planet that existed just on the edge of the Perlemian Trade Route, and one that the Republic had been chased to by the overpowering Separatists. Raxus was lost, and Kit had found that he had had no choice but to try and ground his troops at Toola before they were chased right out of the galaxy altogether! The Mortal Militia weren't exactly thrilled by this change of events, by this 'cowardly' flight out of the Tion Cluster in which Raxus was housed, and they refused to listen to Fisto's reasoning that they would have been otherwise destroyed if they had remained there.

Kit sighed - he couldn't help but feel, deep down, that this was the beginning of an end - not _the _end, just one of many ends. He didn't really want to find out what this end entailed, though - it made him feel uncomfortable just thinking about it.

He was currently down on the planet's surface, seeing to it that his ships were in a good enough shape to face the onslaught of the Separatists. The people of Toola were fairly accommodating to him and his troops, which was at least one problem off his back, but these people had also adopted the common 'wait and see' policy in this war rather than commit themselves to any side. This meant that if they lost the next battle to the Confederacy, they would have to get out of here pretty quick - the people of Toola would otherwise waste no time in siding with General Grievous, which would be further bad news for the Republic…

'We had better win' Kit resolved.

* * *

'One day, I'll look back on this and laugh' Padmé vainly hoped as she continued, quite breathlessly, to stumble and careen through the darkness of the Sauria forests. She had to try to keep her spirits up because nothing else would, and she had to hope that this beast, still in heavy pursuit, would get tired and find something else upon which to prey in good time.

At the moment, none of this looked likely, for the creature was hardly dilapidated and - as far as Padmé's ears could serve her, for she refused to look back with her eyes - it was still not far behind.

Padmé felt rather sick and her legs were really beginning to tire. She could feel many little cuts and gashes across her body now, inflicted upon her by the unkind foliage, and, on top of that, there were bruises on her knees and legs, from where she had consistently fallen down. Her hands were filthy from cushioning her falls and her hair was a tangled mess better left unmentioned. As the night in the sky only deepened, the going only got worse. Her eyes almost gave up on her altogether; nothing was clearly visible more than a few feet away, and, as is always the case, her eyes began to play tricks on her too. More often than not, she now found herself stumbling into trees, which before had looked like open ground, and tumbling into holes which had previously looked like solid land.

Falling again, Padmé yelped as she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. She could hear the bipedal carnivore coming up behind her but still she refused to give up - with that strong will that had long since kept her alive, she managed to drag herself back onto her feet and to limp on.

Running was agony now, and she wasn't sure she could keep it up. She had no time to climb a tree - the thing would see her and pick her off halfway up - and there looked to be absolutely no other form of respite in any direction. She pushed herself through a thicket of bushes, then hopped over a set of fallen trees. She then turned right, tore through some low-hanging vines, and on she went again, all the time feeling more and more exhausted, more and more nauseous, and more and more doomed.

She had given up shouting for Dooku a long time ago, but, even if she now wanted to, she could not shout for him anymore - her voice was caught in her throat, which ached with every laborious breath she took. It felt as though her heart had climbed up into her gullet, leaving no room for her voice in there besides.

The creature behind roared, getting impatient - or so Padmé thought, until, tearing through the trees just ahead, another of the blasted things came into view.

Padmé found the energy, at least, to scream in utter surprise, before she managed to skid down a small mossy hill to her left and continue on down that route. This new beast was of the same species as the other, no doubt, but was obviously of the other sex, for he sported a pair of huge horns atop his head, whereas the other only sported stunted lumps. And he, unlike his mate, was not injured by Padmé's lightsabre, and was fresh to the chase. He was going to give the poor girl a real run for her money.

Perhaps this really _was_ it, Padmé then resolved - she was never going to get off this planet. She was going to die here, forgotten and quite alone.

She thus nearly had a heart attack when, breaking this reverie, her arm was grabbed by a hand in the darkness and she was dragged on, at a fast pace, in another direction.

"Greetings, my lady."

So here was Serenn, defying all logic, and suddenly appearing from out of nowhere, forcing her to just run yet more. She couldn't bring herself to even ask him how he had got there, where he had been, or what he was doing… none of it. She couldn't care less as long as he helped her get out of this mess.

The Count wasn't in a talking humour himself and sounded equally short on breath. It wasn't easy to make him out in the darkness, so Padmé couldn't see how he looked at all; she just followed his lead, hearing the incessant thumping of those giant, clawed feet behind them. She thought it were a miracle when, leaping over a tree trunk (or stumbling over, in Padmé's case), they came out into the open air - it was the first time since they'd crash-landed here that they had done. A wonderful fresh wind rushed upon them, refreshing and clear, and an open sky looked down on them from the heavens above. This all nearly rendered Padmé insensible to the situation until she felt Serenn tear his lightsabre from her tight grasp and force her behind him.

When her senses came to, Padmé realised they had come out onto a projection, a cliff face high above the rest of the forest below.

As the two beasts then emerged from out of the woods, slowing their pace with a realisation that their prey was trapped, Padmé in turn realised that there was only one way out of this situation, and that was blocked by the ferocious bipeds. "Oh no…" she sighed, her recent flame of hope dashed by the waters of defeat.

Serenn just gestured for her to step back with a wave of his hand and, activating the lightsabre, he then followed her in steadily retreating down the outcrop, one which grew ever the more narrow the further back they went.

The two carnivores plodded toward them all the time, a look of triumph in their eyes as they beheld the spoils of their troubles, as good as dead.

"What are you doing?" Padmé asked Serenn through arduous breaths, watching him do little but give ground after her, "What are you ?"

"_Shh_!" he growled, giving her a quick glance whilst the two furry lizards continued to watch him and his glowing, red lightsabre.

Padmé did silence and turned her eyes back to the two giants. They were impressive creatures, she had to admit, and she could now clearly see the damage she had caused to the female, who sported a gash across her left eye. Padmé gasped suddenly, though, as she felt her back-foot slip on some mossy rocks, announcing the edge of the precipice. Quickly grasping onto Serenn so that she didn't fall, and scrambling away from the edge, she stared over the cliff and looked down. She could only just make out the line of a river and the small shapes of the trees and rocks, many hundreds of feet below... It was a long way down.

"We're trapped, aren't we?" she murmured with the frankness of someone close to death, looking back at Serenn as he joined her right on the edge. He gave the distant ground below a quick glance, then looked at Padmé in a way that told her she was gravely mistaken. "Can you swim?" he asked.

Her brow knotted as she took slight offence at this simple question - she'd grown up in the Lake Country back home, hadn't she?; "Don't be stupid, of course I can swim!"

The two beasts roared, their patience thinning, and both prepared to strike.

Serenn deactivated his weapon and thrust it upon his belt; "Good," he replied, before he swung her up into his arms and vaulted over the edge.

The two lizard-like carnivores watched the space with disappointment and looked down at the ravine far below. They then opted unanimously to return into the forest, and must undoubtedly have been thinking about how stupid some creatures were.

* * *

Senator Tikkes's hologram flickered before Grievous as the Droid General reclined on the bridge of his flagship; "General," the Quarren warbled, "I have forced the Republic out to Toola from Raxus. They still hold Mon Calamari, and Munto Codru remains undecided. I await your further orders."

Grievous, sat down in some throne-like chair, tapped his fingers idly on its arm and took a moment to think about this; "Well done, Senator," he said at last, "They shall expect an attack from you. I would like this faction of the Republic squeezed out of the picture - they are a liability." He rose to his feet. "I shall join you and we shall wipe them out together."

The Quarren bowed and faded away into nothingness. Grievous then turned and left the room, casting his eyes over his flagship bridge as he went. It was silent, a vacuum of conformity and rigid obedience. He rapped his fingers lightly against his ever-growing belt of lightsabres as he went, which swung and hit one another like morbid chimes - it was time to add another to his collection.

* * *

Ki-Adi Mundi had to count himself lucky amongst his Jedi allies in that he was currently situated on Coruscant and had not needed to put up with the Mortal Militia as of yet. He was sat with Master Yoda in the Jedi Master's apartment, and the two were doing their best to interpret General Grievous and his motives. Master Yoda was doing as much as anyone to assist in the war effort right now, but things just kept getting more and more cryptic, and lives were being lost because of it.

"I believe he has something in mind for Naboo," Mundi murmured, pointing to the distant small planet on the holo-map that was currently swirling before them both, "All shipments there seem to have been halted."

"Hmm," Yoda sighed, pursing his lips, "Some kind of blockade in mind he has."

"But why?" Mundi asked, "He can have no reason."

"No," Yoda agreed, "No reason but to out there, draw us."

Ki-Adi sighed and nodded. "This General is clearly merciless."

Yoda nodded again and looked over the holo-map; the Jedi were his family, they had always been his family, and he was losing more to this sudden conflict than he had to any other in the past eight-hundred years. When he looked at a planet now, he more often than not was simply reminded of a Jedi who had fallen in battle there. Yavin - there was Master Windu's grave; Gamorr - Master Rancisis had been lost there. Serenno… well, no one there yet, but his old apprentice had come from there, his last Padawan, young Serenn.

Well, he was not so young any more.

Yoda stared at Serenno - where was Dooku now? And what madness had driven him to take part in all this?

* * *

The surface of the river rippled. Then it bubbled. And then, with a great splash, both Serenn and Padmé broke the surface, heaving great breaths and thanking the Force they were alive.

There's something about surviving a near-death experience that does strange things to one's constitution and mind, hence why Padmé looked at Serenn and shouted, "You bastard!" She thrust her hand through the water and sent a great spray of it over him, though she wasn't even sure whether she was cross or pleased with him.

Serenn gave her a brief glare before he then began to swim to the edge of the river, and Padmé soon followed. They both gladly dragged themselves onto the pebbly beach and lay there, catching their breaths, for some time.

"You could have given me a warning," Padmé said quietly at length, watching the stars that now shone down from the heavens.

"That would have wasted time," he replied.

She finally found the energy to sit up and, turning to him, looked him over. He was in pretty poor shape and actually made her condition look much less serious. He had those familiar little cuts all over the place, suggesting that he too had been running through the woods, but these were nothing compared to the bloody tear across his tunic, which announced some kind of gash on his ill-fortuned chest; "I think you've cut yourself," she said, leaning toward him to try to see the wound.

He gave her a glare that dared her to move any closer. "I know," he countered.

She took the hint and kept her distance. "How did you manage that?"

"Getting thrown from a tree at sixty kilometres an hour can do that to one," he retorted, heaving himself up and looking down at the gash in question.

She frowned at him - he seemed to be in a very standoffish mood all of a sudden, so she made no reply.

After another few moments, the Count made a move and Padmé watched him as he forced himself onto his weary legs, and took his lightsabre hilt back into his hand. Shaking the water out of it, he flicked it on and gave it a test run, then, seeing that it was working smoothly, he fiddled with a nozzle, to adjust its length, and reduced the red blade to a rather puny, humming stump.

Padmé's brow creased in puzzlement and he caught her eyes; "What baffles you, madam?" he asked, drawing his tunic off over his head.

She wafted a hand toward the weapon. "What are you doing?"

He gave her a long look, dropping the ragged tunic and pointing to the wound on his chest. "Cauterising a rather nasty wound, lest it become infected."

"Are you insane?" she cringed.

"On the contrary, if I leave it as it is, I'm not certain to last long." He threw her a sad smile, "And I believe that I have at least one more thing I need to do before I die."

She stared hard at him as he said those words; ' before I die' echoed through her mind like nothing he had ever said before. She shook her head, filing it away for future reference; "I'm sure there are better ways," she uttered softly.

"There are, but they're not available to me right now," he replied, softening a little in turn, before he then turned away to perform the procedure.

Padmé turned her back on him as well - the idea of burning oneself didn't sound at all pleasant and she didn't even want to think about it. This didn't prevented her from being able to hear the awful sound of burning flesh as he did it, though.

When she finally heard him plunk himself back down onto the pebbly beach, she turned again to look at him. He sat there, cross-legged, with his lightsabre hilt in his lap, and a weary look on his face. His body was brimmed with a little sweat, but the wound was, indeed, sealed. It looked far worse to Padmé than before, but burns always did, and she could only give him the benefit of the doubt. She hadn't been trained as a Jedi, afterall.

After another of their long, mutual silences, she picked up a pebble and began to fiddle with it, saying, "Serenn…?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you know this was going to happen?"

"That what was going to happen?" he asked. His voice was different, tempered by pain.

"This." She looked straight at him. "That we were going to be shot down?"

He lowered himself fully down onto the ground and laid out flat, resting a hand over his throbbing wound; "I didn't know," he confessed, "I could just feel that something was going to happen. If you understood how the Force worked, you would know what I meant. It gave me a warning… and I just _knew _that I was in for some trouble." He turned his eyes on her and added, "The Force also told me, or 'imparted' to me, that if I could get you away to Alderaan, things would not end up so bad." He paused. "Or something like that. I can't explain it. It just gives one a sudden knowledge - or perhaps 'impulse' is the right word - to do, or not to do something."

She looked down thoughtfully and nodded, throwing the pebble in her hand up, then catching it as it fell, over and over again . "And how would I have been better off on my own?"

He watched her toss the pebble up and down and, fixing his eyes on it, he suddenly held it, suspended in the air, and watched her face fill with perplexity as she wondered why gravity had suddenly stopped working for her. The hovering pebble soon brought back recollections of Anakin's floating fruit on Naboo, though, and she turned to Serenn and gave him a 'very funny' glare.

He brought the pebble toward him and toyed with it in the air above his head - as much for a distraction from the pain in his chest than anything - and finally answered her question; "If you had been on your own, away from me, I could at least have hoped to keep you away from the danger I now cannot help but see you face."

Padmé's eyes followed the pebble as it bobbed up and down, somersaulting all over the place under Serenn's complete and utter control.

"You see," he went on, "Alone, I would face what I know is coming to me without fear of what might happen to you in turn, and I could hope that you would evade…" He thought better of what he was about to say, and changed course; "Well, you are with me now and you are risking your own safety because of it, and I cannot help but feel that whatever happens to you shall be all my fault." With an irate intensity, he then tossed the pebble away across the river.

"I have enough on my conscience," he growled, "I don't wish to add anymore to it…"

Padmé watched the pebble skim the water, bouncing on the ripples, until it sunk beneath the surface with a gentle 'plop'. She then sighed. "You're still not telling me much."

"I have no wish to."

Some crickets began chirping in the grasses nearby, celebrating the hours of darkness.

"I had a dream," Serenn suddenly admitted, "After you had left me that night, back on Oovo. It was terrible, and prevented me from sleeping." He bit his lip and silenced for a minute.

Padmé just stared at him, watching his chest rise and fall.

"I saw many things," he went on, sitting slowly back up and pulling his tunic back over his upper-body, "but I also saw you. I was told what might happen to you if we went to Alderaan together, but we never actually _got_ to Alderaan in my dream - we never made it." He paused suddenly and leant on his raised knees, looking out across the inky surface of the river. "I saw fire and I felt pain," he murmured on, "And screams, I heard terrible screams... I could not make much sense of it, and I shall not tell you half of what I witnessed, but I knew… as soon as I woke up, I just knew that I had to save you from it."

"Save me from what?" she asked.

He turned and his eyes met hers. "I can't tell you."

She sighed again - it was always two steps forward, one step back with this man. "Are we going to die here, then?" she asked, staring up at the firmament.

"No. I told you, we have been imprisoned here."

"But for how long?"

"I don't know."

"And who's imprisoned us?"

Serenn paused again, wondering whether or not to answer this question. He ultimately resolved to let it out and said, "The Sith Master."

Padmé turned to look at him. "Palpatine, you mean?" She stared at him for a long time, lost thoughts bubbling up to the surface in the pool of her mind. "You know, you never did tell me how you knew he was the Sith Master."

Serenn didn't turn to face her - he just looked away.

"How did you know?" she persisted, "And why did I believe you? I don't understand why I accepted what you said."

He smiled briefly, but his lips were soon drawn back down by the weighty guilt in his heart.

"Are you going to tell me?"

He left another pause but realised that he had very little chance of getting out of this forever. "I -" he began, then stopped, but not because he couldn't find the words, but because he had sensed danger. He shot to his feet, activated his lightsabre and turned to the forest that bordered the beach, eyes darting every which way.

Padmé soon followed and shot up by his side, her heart pounding - was this it? Were they finally going to be rescued?

Serenn's eyes had filled with that distant look, his sight seeming almost to sink into his mind as his incorporeal self wandered through the valleys and plains of the Force, seeking out the intruder he knew was approaching. He quickly reached out and took a rigid hold of Padmé's arm, holding her steady to him; the aura was tense and, for some reason, the young Nubian subsequently panicked - she didn't know what was going on, so she just clung to him in return.

The bushes rustled before them.

The night had fallen silent - no carnivores roared, no herbivores crooned, no insects fluttered. It was one of those 'calm before the storm' moments.

As if on cue, clone troopers then slowly began to emerge from the foliage, their giant rifles cocked in their arms.

Padmé didn't move; she felt Serenn's hand tighten its grip on her, though.

The troops surrounded them in a circle, yet the deadly silenced endured - it would seem that there was yet one other to materialise from out of the folds of darkness. Serenn's eyes were watching the shadows amongst the bushes and trees, fixed on something within that murky mass of nothingness.

The wait for something to happen was unbearable and drew out for what Padmé felt was an age. Then, finally, something stirred in the shadows, and a creature of the night emerged, stepping calmly into the clearing.

The river trickled through the shallows behind them, filling the uneasy silence with its innocent harmony and Padmé took this opportunity to study the intruder: He was a tall man, fairly muscular in build, and was dressed entirely in black, every inch of his body being covered in tight robes and bindings. This was all except his eyes, at least; those two, pale blue orbs gleamed out of his body of darkness like lonely stars in a forsaken night sky, and were as cold as glaciers, twinkling with what could only be called a euphoric malice. On first impressions, one would believe that this man was some sort of assassin, disguising himself thoroughly in preparation for the execution of some terrible crime.

/I have found you/

Padmé heard nothing, yet she felt a tremor surge through Dooku's chest and consequently run down her arm. She knew that something had clearly made itself apparent to him, yet not to her, and it troubled her, causing her to unintentionally clutch at the Count tighter. He tried to offer her some form of support by clasping her shoulder in return, but it was a futile gesture.

/Give her up/ the Assassin went on.

Serenn's eyes narrowed on the man a fraction; /Make me/ he said.

The smile turned sour in the stranger's eyes; he raised a hand and flexed it out toward Dooku. There followed a terrific rumble, and both Serenn and Padmé were hurled from their feet and down onto the jagged, stony terrain below. Padmé winced as the pebbles cut into her skin, and saw, as Dooku shot to his feet, that his arm was also lacerated, yet he ignored it, and, standing over her in a protective manner, held up his lightsabre and stood up, one man against the throng.

The black-clad Assassin sauntered forward. "He's wanted alive," he said to his squadron, voice muffled by the swathes over his face, "Make sure you don't kill him."

The troopers subsequently, to Padmé's surprise, unleashed a great volley of laser fire, and Serenn was forced to swing his lightsabre rapidly here and there to deflect the incoming blows. She swallowed as she tried to make out what was going on in the blur that was the blasts of laser fire and the flashing of a lightsabre blade, but could discern nothing. The assassin-like stranger soon caught her attention though, for he was now holding some kind of peculiar gun upon his shoulder; it didn't take her a moment longer to understand who he was aiming it at, though.

"Serenn!" Padmé cried out to him involuntarily.

The Count hesitated and glanced at her.

And that was all the time the man in black needed. Pulling the trigger, he unleashed a dart from his gun, which flew, with a savage hiss, straight into Dooku's neck, and there it remained firmly lodged. Serenn barked in turn and, reaching up to his throat, pulled the offending article from his skin. All shooting soon stopped around him and the Count threw the Assassin a dark glare, one that plainly said 'cheap shot'.

The grim smile was again shining in the stranger's eyes as he now watched the lofty Count begin to lose his bearings. Serenn dropped his lightsabre then staggered about, before he fell to his knees and, after a long and agonising pause, fell backward with a final thud.

All the time, Padmé had been able to do nothing but watch, mouth open: This was it - it was over.

The tall stranger surveyed the scene for a moment before he opened his own hand and drew Dooku's lightsabre hilt into it. He then stared at Padmé and she at him, before, clicking his fingers, he made back for his ship, whilst several clone troopers took the Count and the Senator prisoner.

**TBC…**


	40. Countdown to Destruction

**Author's Notes:** This is one of those linking-chapters. I tried to make it longer, but I couldn't, and I couldn't even integrate it into the chapter before or the one after, so it's had to stand alone. I just needed to bridge between the last chapter and the next, so apologies for the brevity of this one.

* * *

**Eclipse**

**Part 40 - Countdown to Destruction**

The Assassin sauntered into a small dark chamber and lowered himself onto one knee on a circular platform. This emitted a quiet hum and its borders shone with a gentle, white light.

Soon thereafter, a shady hologram formed before him.

The Assassin looked at it; "I have them, Master," he said.

"Excellent," crackled the man in return, his image shimmering, "Hold your position for a little longer. I shall let you know when it is safe to bring them in."

The Assassin bowed. "Yes, my Master."

* * *

The first thing Serenn did when he woke up was vomit. Padmé backed up from him as he retched onto the floor, then gave him a moment to gather his senses. He was breathing heavily, and she could tell, as he stared at the metal walls around him, and at the blue force-field across the doorway, that he was also disorientated - he had no idea what was going at first, until the facts of his predicament steadily began to click back into place. He then turned and stared at her.

She licked her lip before she whispered, "I thought you were going to die."

He stared a little longer. "I will one day," he said, before he began to shuffle backward across the floor, stopping only when he felt the cold metal wall of the cell at his back. He then leant upon this hard, his eyes so heavy that he could do nought but let them close.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, his mind still foggy and unclear.

"We've been taken prisoner," she replied, "We're in a cell, in their ship."

"Whose ship?"

"The Republic's."

The Count smiled darkly, his memory beginning to reform. "Ah, yes…" he murmured, "'The Republic's'."

Suggestion was rife in Dooku's tone, but Padmé didn't question it, she only sighed and moved to sit by his side. "Are you okay?" she asked, arching her head about to look at him as she settled against the wall.

"You shouldn't be concerned about that," he countered, eyes still shut and head angled to the ceiling.

"Why not?"

His dark eyes peered out from beneath their half-closed eyelids and they stared into Padmé's for some time; "You amaze me sometimes," he said at length, before he closed his eyes again and sat completely still. Padmé, meanwhile, leant against him, running her hands up his chest and resting her head upon his shoulder.

From beyond the force-field, the man in black glared coldly, then swept about and disappeared into the corridors of his cruiser.

* * *

Back at Toola, with his convoy now in the planet's orbit, Kit Fisto suddenly found himself rushing away from the bridge of his flagship and down into its bowels, for they had been ambushed. No one could quite agree on where this Separatist fleet had come from so suddenly, or how they had gotten there undetected, but the plain fact remained that they _were_ there and were now in the process of taking them out from above, beneath and behind. They had to be dealt with.

Kit had been vaguely aware of many-a curse being shouted at him for 'his ineptitude', and so on and so forth by the Mortal Militia, but he had no time for the prejudice of his 'comrades' right now. He rushed down the corridors of his cruiser, lightsabre hilt in hand, somehow managing to keep his balance as the ship rocked every which way around him. Droids and soldiers were stumbling and falling all over the place, but he used the Force to give him the control and the stability he needed. He didn't even know where he was going yet, he just had the 'urge', the 'impulse', to run this way and to engage the enemy - who, if his calculations were right, would any moment enter the ship.

There was a great crash and the cruiser jerked violently. Glancing out of one of the few portholes along the gallery, Kit just caught sight of one of the great, tubular starships of the Separatists closing in on them, one of those bland, circular beasts that had once been synonymous with the Trade Federation.

He then stopped in his tracks, for he realised that the chaos had subsided into a dreadful calm - this could only mean that the cruiser had been captured and up-righted, and was now in the process of being drawn up into the hull of the Confederate craft.

Kit shook his tentacled head in disbelief before he continued on his journey - it had all been accomplished far too easily, and it baffled him to high heaven.

Pulling up a hatch in the floor, Fisto then dropped down a ladder and, passing rows of soldiers, who were now setting themselves up across from the doorway through which the enemy would have to force their entry, he finally skidded to a halt on the front line and waited.

The doorway before them was quiet, until sparks began to flash across its edges, announcing the breach of the Confederacy. The metal whined and glowed before, with a bang, the door was sent crashing to the floor. A thick smoke and haze covered the threshold, so Kit could not yet make out his enemy, but the Republic soldiers all began shooting anyway - yet all their shots were only deflected back into their chests. The troopers just dropped dead around him.

Kit squinted into the smog, trying to discern the outline of his enemy - meanwhile, more Republic troops dropped to the front and began shooting once more into the unknown. And again, the shots ricocheted back at them, and the they were added to the piles of deceased.

Whilst yet another line of troops marched forward to certain death, Fisto suddenly made out the form of a purple lightsabre over the threshold. His black eyes widened. "Ceasefire!" he yelled, "Ceasefire!"

The Republic troopers hung back, but held their rifles at the ready. The purple lightsabre consequently disappeared back into the mist.

There seemed to be nothing there but silence and smoke. 'What was that?' Kit pondered, rising his green blade a little hesitantly as he paced toward the darkened doorway, 'Could it be…?'

Kit kept stepping forward until he stood on the very edge of the doorway and found, as the clouds settled, that there truly was nothing beyond the smokescreen. He blinked, staring down the deserted deck of the Confederacy's starship beyond - there were no battledroids, and certainly no Jedi through there. The Force told of nothing, either.

The Jedi Knight shook his head, and resigned himself to a state of confusion. It was a shame he hadn't thought to look up, for, suddenly, there was a thud behind him as a pair of metallic feet unhinged their grip from the ceiling and hit the deck. Before Kit could turn back around, there was a slosh, and he looked down to see a purple blade tear through his abdomen. All went dark, and his body dropped to the floor, followed soon by his green lightsabre.

Reaching down, General Grievous added this metal hilt to his collection, and then went on to effortlessly storm the Republic flagship alone.

* * *

Back at Kenobi's convoy, relations hadn't improved between the militia and Master Obi-Wan. The Jedi General had kept out of the way of his comrades for the time being, even if it was against his better judgement - he knew it was his responsibility to be up there, on the bridge, sorting matters out and keeping things in line, but he had long ago lost his nerve with these pompous old aristocrats who thought that their ages-old breeding made them better qualified for the task than a simple, devout Jedi Knight.

Breeding… bloodlines… what did they matter? They meant nothing. You could have any father or any mother, it didn't matter - you became who you were because of factors more important than breeding. The best Jedi in the universe had come from the so-called 'lowest' parents, from paupers and from peasants. It just didn't matter.

Obi heaved a deep sigh. He was lying back in the dark on his bunk, hiding from his ungrateful allies. But he knew he could not stay here forever. It was wrong of him, even petty. He felt that burning resentment in his chest that he knew Master Jinn used to harbour, that feeling of injustice and inadequacy. He would soon be rebuked like Master Jinn had been, too, if he didn't get off his backside and return to the bridge.

In fact, he had almost forced himself to do so when, slipping off his bunk onto the floor, his comm' device began bleeping. He paused, and felt all through his robes for the pocket he had left it in. Failing in this, he discovered that he'd left it on a side unit after all, and picked it up, flicking the switch and putting it to his mouth; "General Kenobi," he reported.

It was Ki-Adi Mundi, speaking from Coruscant; "Greetings, Obi-Wan," the Cerean said, "How are things on the Outer Rim?

Obi laughed dryly. "Oh, most unproductive…"

Ki-Adi chuckled lightly in return, despite the circumstances. "Yes, well… we all hit these rough patches."

"I think I've hit one too many at once," Obi retorted, sitting himself back down and glaring at the thin film of light that made its way under the door from the corridor beyond.

"Well, then I am sorry for you," Mundi said, "And I fear that I have another to add to your collection."

"You are too kind, Ki-Adi," Obi murmured.

Mundi continued; "There seem to be problems at Naboo. Yes, roll your eyes, we do seem to be constantly treading this ground, but we cannot ignore it. This is nothing but a ploy to get more of our troops out of the way, we all know this, but if we neglect this problem, we're going to have an even bigger dilemma on our hands. People will die."

Obi nodded glumly from his seat on his bunk. "People are already dying," he whispered, before he said, "I'll do what I can, Master Mundi, but… well, these commanders and generals, they're not exactly inclined to do what I want."

"This is a command, General Kenobi, not an option," Ki-Adi reminded him, "I can assure you of the Chancellor's full support."

"Of course," Obi conceded, hauling himself up off his bed and sliding again onto the floor, "I'll do all that's in my power."

"Of course," Mundi concurred, "And may the Force be with you."

Yes, the Force had better be with me, Obi dryly conjectured.

* * *

Chancellor Palpatine was sat behind his desk, fingers steepled. He stared straight ahead, at nothing in particular. Jedi were dropping dead like flies, yet it wasn't quick enough - but he could deal with them later. He had to prioritise.

Beneath him, written out by his hand, was a bill for the Republic to consider, a complete reorganising of the constitution into a more systematic society. Or that was the concept. This entailed a larger army, which it looked like they were going to need anyway, and also more men to lead this army. It also set out plans for greater military training facilities, an overhauled tax system, and perhaps a better health service. The Chancellor rubbed his chin - he may even promise that skybuses would now run on time, as well. People liked to hear such mundane pledges.

He looked down at the bill and read through its many clauses. He could have anything he wanted - he knew he would get it. He was just wondering what to call it, this new constitution. There wasn't going to be a Republic much longer. People were weary of democracy - look what had happened because of it! Disgruntlement, rebellion, outright war! Yes, this is what happened when people ruled themselves. What people needed was leadership, someone telling them what to do. Not a king, though… a king implied some kind of divine right, and no one swallowed that kind of mysticism anymore. They might as well have a Jedi leading them if that were the case. No, not a king... But a leader had to have status - but not merely that of a chancellor, or a president or even a prime minister - these all oozed of democracy and of something too inherently weak to make a good, strong leader. No, what he needed was to make people see they were in for something better, something stronger, something that, like a well-oiled droid, functioned, worked, and went on, round and round, day after day, and did not fail. It had to be something efficient, and cold enough to strike a decent amount of fear into people's hearts - because people could be ruled by nothing but fear. Try ruling people with kindness or generosity - they only turned on you in the end. Nice guys always _did _finish last.

The Chancellor picked up his pen and, on the final line, wrote 'Galactic Empire'.

* * *

Grievous checked his holo-map, ticking off mentally all the planets in his head that were his, then checking the locations of all the Republic's Armies. Eighty percent were either in-between the Mid and Outer Rim, or on the Outer Rim itself. He had plenty of room to manoeuvre in the Core Worlds, therefore, and to organise his ultimate strike.

He walked across the bridge of his control ship and opened a communication channel to Geonosis; "Poggle," he hissed.

After a moment or two, a miniature image of the Geonosian Archduke fizzled into life atop a console. He bowed to Grievous. "What is your pleasure, General?" he asked in his native tongue.

Being part droid was advantageous in many ways - all languages could almost be the same to the General, whose processors did the work; "Where are my strike forces?"

"They are all on their way, General. Do you wish them to converge at any set coordinates?"

Grievous might have grinned if he had had the capacity; "Yes," he nodded, turning back to his holo-map and sticking his claw into its heart. "Zero,zero," he said.

**TBC…**


	41. One Truth, One Hate

**Eclipse**

**Part 41 - One Truth, One Hate**

The Republic was in a state of excitement - they had heard the Chancellor's bill and they liked it. Its clauses contained enough tantalising promises to make them blind enough to the man's blatant ambition - but they trusted him. He had one of those faces and such an urbane manner. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, anyway.

This bill promised such a shake-up in the democracy that it was unprecedented in scale - the Republic had hardly changed in makeup for centuries, so the majority of the senate thought it was about time that someone dusted off the cobwebs and changed the scenery a little.

Besides, even if this Empire appeared to have just one absolute ruler, there was no chance in him being able to rule alone - of course the senate would be able to control him. In essence, they had decided to hire this Chancellor for a little longer, so that he could be the promising face of the 'new order' - he'd done a fine job so far, and the people would no doubt unite beneath the kind of stability he promised. But it was all just show - he could never rule alone.

One of the most promising features of this bill was the fact that it disbanded the Jedi - this had long been wanted by the upper-classes, in particular. These Knights had lost their worth some time ago now and had since become as ornamental as this 'Emperor' would soon be - the fact was that it would be much easier to maintain one man in an incredulous position than it was to maintain ten thousand knights and a temple in theirs.

Yes, the constituency liked this. Or they at least were led to believe they did.

To top this off, Count Dooku had apparently been found! This all but signalled the end of the wars, did it not? They had the Separatist leader. He was to be sternly dealt with, they were told, and a show was to be made, along the veranda leading up to the Senate, of any further traitors captured. No one quite knew what this meant, but it was an encouraging promise all the same.

The Senate would soon vote on the bill, and then all that was left would be to institute it all.

* * *

Master Yoda was playing host to Bail Organa, who, returning from his homeworld to attend the senate's discussion of this Imperial Doctrine, had wasted no time in rushing to Master Yoda to relate and to discuss this news.

"Master Yoda," he said quietly, hands clasped at the small of his back as he paced beside the diminutive Jedi through the empty, cavernous halls of the temple, "The senate has long been deteriorating, we have all known this, but things have gone too far this time. The Chancellor is listening to the masses and exciting many with this ludicrous new bill. It looks likely that it will be passed, though... There is not enough resistance. Master Yoda, I can't give my name to this, but what else can I do? It does promise a stronger Republic - or 'Empire' as it has been denoted - yet this comes at your expense, and at the expense of much else. I fear our very freedom is at stake - we cannot allow any man to have undisputed power."

Yoda listened patiently to all this with nods and sighs, hobbling along with his cane.

"I can do nothing but warn you," Organa added, "I have no idea what he wishes to do with you, but -"

"Scapegoats have the Jedi become," Yoda said plainly, "Persecuted. Downtrodden. What a price for loyalty we pay." He smiled weakly up at Bail and slowed to a halt, resting heavily upon his gnarled staff; "Trouble me greatly this does. The Sith's hand in it there undoubtedly is."

"But why would they choose Palpatine? There are so many others in the senate who might more fittingly fill the role of an Emperor - a puppet emperor - if this is what the Sith want."

Yoda frowned to himself and thought on this; "A clever man, the Sith Master must be. A clever man also is Chancellor Palpatine." He mulled on this longer, imparting very few of his thoughts to Bail.

"Then what shall we do?" Organa asked.

Yoda looked up. "Caution, Senator," he said sternly, "Care we must take. Our every move being watched it is. More subtle we must be."

"Your entire Order is in danger…" Bail continued, lowering himself to his haunches and looking at Yoda imploringly, "Are you telling me that, no matter what is decided for you, your people will be safe? The war's failings are being laid at your feet, not mine or any of the senator's. You will be targeted, attacked, I fear even murdered, if possible… I cannot allow some of my greatest allies to fall foul to such horrors."

"Vengeful are the people," Yoda nodded as though he knew that what Bail claimed could easily become reality, "But not yet out of the picture are we."

Bail sighed and returned to his feet. "Just please remain wary, Master Yoda. Be ready to escape this capital when you can… I fear it will not be safe for many of us much longer." He bit his lip and with much reluctance confessed, "If you do not agree to whatever terms the senate imposes for you and your Order, I will have no power to protect you."

"Give in to the Chancellor's demands, we shall not," Yoda countered with a determination that surprised Organa, "Never accept, shall we, Palpatine's elevation to Emperor."

"That will smack of treason, Master Yoda - you shall be destroyed!"

Yoda nodded his head sadly. "Come what may, Senator."

The Alderaanian shook his head. "Master Yoda, I shall not be able to help you…"

"For your concern, I thank you, Senator," Yoda went on, his aura returning to that more kindly one that he was both well known and liked for, "But powerless are you. The Jedi's problem is this, and remain that it shall . Upon yourself do not take any blame."

Bail looked downwards and exhaled a breath of defeat - the Jedi corps had their honour, and it looked like nothing would take that away from them, even to the last. "As you wish, Master Yoda," he muttered. He bowed to the noble Jedi then made his way out of the temple with a heavy, unsettled heart. Master Yoda, meanwhile, simply shook his head and hobbled on, back to his apartment.

* * *

In orbit of the capital, meanwhile, the black-clad Assassin was staring out at the twinkling lights of the planet down below from aboard his craft. His ship was currently hovering in the darkness on the shadow-side of Coruscant - if the dark side of the planet could even be called such, for never was the gleaming heart of the Republic ever in complete darkness; its lights always glittered, making allusions to it being a jewel well justified.

He folded his arms, leaning in the crook of a window upon the bridge whilst his silent clone troopers manned the consoles all around him. After a long morning of silence, a console to the right finally began to bleep. The Assassin cast his eyes around as a clone trooper saw to the disturbance. The soldier then turned to the Assassin and said, "We have leave to land now, sir."

The Assassin smirked beneath his dark wrappings. "Excellent," he said, "Take us in."

* * *

Padmé was in a light doze, still lying upon Serenn's shoulder, when she felt his hand nudge her and, raising her face, she saw that the black-clad Assassin was stood outside their cell. She and the Count both slowly got to their feet as they soon realised that the Assassin was deactivating the force-field that kept them imprisoned.

With a dull hum, the field fizzled out and the man glared at his two captives, sauntering across the threshold up to them.

He glanced at Padmé, giving her a brief unassuming look, but his mood shifted like the incoming of a sudden tempest as he then glared at Serenn. He halted before the Count with a swagger that oozed of an undeniable hatred, so Serenn, naturally, rose his head a little and gave the unknown a glare in return, facing the silent challenge and holding out.

Padmé hung back a little, watching an electrical friction fizzle between them unlike anything she had ever seen before. Well, almost anything…

It was then, without warning, that the Assassin flung his head forward and butted Serenn across his countenance. The Count barked, stumbling back with a hand to his face, but was given no time to recover as the Assassin then went on to fling his fist into Dooku's stomach, before swinging a kick at his shins. The Count dropped to the floor, blood dripping from his nose, and he would have felt the edge of another kick if Padmé hadn't leapt between him and the Assassin and ordered the man to stop.

The Assassin glared at Padmé for some time. The way she looked at him was strange, and he hadn't expected it at all. It seemed even stranger to Padmé, though, when his eventual reaction was to simply take a step back and laugh.

Waving his hand, the stranger then turned about and strut out of the cell. "Handcuff the old man," he said as he went, then disappeared from view. A group of clone troopers now came in and, forcing Serenn back to his feet and shackling his wrists, then escorted them both out.

They were led out into the Coruscant night, into a small shuttle, and arrived not long after at the Galactic Senate.

The senate halls themselves were deserted by the time Padmé and Serenn were marched along them by their clone convoy. It was past midnight on the capital, and no one but the odd droid seemed to litter the bare, wide halls. The two looked particularly dishevelled in comparison to the fine carpets and statuettes along the corridors, their clothes torn and muddy, their faces and hands more so.

Padmé looked about herself warily - it was eerie being here when so few others were, but, for that matter, she wondered why they even _were _here. She wasn't an expert on procedure when it came to arresting fugitives, but she was sure a visit to the senate was not top on the list.

As they reached a lift shaft, the Republic troops handed the two over to the scarlet senate guards, an elite division of soldiers seen as of late to haunt the Chancellor's abode. Dooku and Padmé said nothing and peacefully passed from one convoy to the next, stepping into the lift with the four red guards and travelling silently up to the higher floors.

Padmé looked between the mysterious soldiers with unease - they were very intimidating. She had seen them several times before, yet it was only now that she had begun to pay any real attention to them. She could see hints of the old Senate Guard in the design of their suits, but these red sentinels were faceless, their visages hidden behind impassive masks.

The lift plodded to a halt and both Padmé and the Count were then escorted by the sentry through yet more empty halls. Further troubled by this, she lowered her voice so that Serenn alone could hear her and muttered, "It's so quiet…"

He glanced at her, his eyes heavy beneath the hooded lids; "Indeed," he rasped.

She looked at him uncertainly. "Are you all right?"

He scoffed, a weak smile perking up on his face; she could tell that something was bothering him and that he was simply astounded by the sheer fact she cared to ask.

"Serenn?" she pushed on.

Padmé hadn't realised that her voice had risen in volume and one of the Royal Guards suddenly thrust his electro pike at her leg; she squealed as it sent a jolt of electricity up through her ankle and she doubled up in pain. "Silence!" the guard shouted, but Serenn rounded on him in the blink of an eye and stepped between him and Padmé.

"There's no need for that," he snarled at the sentinel.

Dooku's eyes were reflected back at him in the guard's visor, yet the Count continued to hold his ground even as the guard in question raised his pike beneath his chin; "Get back in line, you scum," the sentinel hissed, before he thrust his pike at Dooku's chest and this time sent a visible electrical charge surging over him. It was Serenn's turn to drop to the floor and feel the agony that this weapon inflicted, and he roared out in pain, clawing at his chest, until the anguish eventually subsided and he regained control of himself.

The guard gestured brusquely for Dooku to get back on his feet; "You will do as you are told whilst in our custody," he continued.

Padmé helped Serenn up, but he brushed her off as though her aid offended him. "We've made no struggle so far, we've given you no grief," he snapped, tossing his long hair out of his eyes and glaring at the party, "Can you not return the favour?"

Padmé felt the lead guard might be sneering back at them - he somehow had that air about him, though nothing could be seen beneath the red cloak and helmet. His only response was to thrust his hand ahead of them, though, before he simply snapped, "Move." And the party continued on its way.

Refusing to risk talking to Dooku again, Padmé conceded to the guards' wishes and walked in silence, listening to the swish of their heavy robes, the jingle of their weapons and the stomping of their feet as they went. They passed through hallway after hallway, went up lift after lift, and ascended stair after stair… until they came to a sudden halt.

The guards parted and rallied behind the Senator and the Separatist, and a pair of doors opened unto a final hallway before them. Dooku looked unsurprised and Padmé was unsettled - she knew exactly where this corridor led, having travelled down it many-a-time before, but was far from bolstered by this prospect.

"Our master awaits you," the leading guard stated, breaking through Padmé's reverie and gesturing his pike toward the far door.

There was a sense of unease all around them, emanating most strongly from the Count himself, and something told Padmé that he was privy to something she wasn't. They both looked at the head guard, then at each other, before, as one, they stepped forward and embarked upon the final stretch of their journey.

The doors shut with an air of finality behind them and left them alone in the void.

"This heads to the Chancellor's office," Padmé said, still keeping her voice down as though some ethereal force imposed itself upon her.

Serenn looked down at her, seeming most reluctant to get into any form of conversation, and walked on in silence until they reached the final doorway. They then halted together, both having fears as to what exactly they were to face on the other side, and Serenn took this opportunity to impart to her a few final words. "Padmé," he said, "Things have been happening in this galaxy for a long time that you are unaware of, and that you possibly don't even comprehend." He paused, kneading his temples and shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "I am not the man to explain them to you, nor do I have any wish to. All I ask of you is to understand that I am very, very sorry. It does not compensate for anything, but it is all I can offer you right now."

Padmé shook her head in return, completely confused by everything that was going on. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the words, so watched mutely as Serenn, with the resolve of a man who wants to get it all over with, waved his hand at the doors before them and commanded them to open. They did so and the Chancellor's office loomed ahead.

* * *

Obi-Wan was flanked by Tarkin and his cronies as their convoy dropped out of lightspeed and the pleasant vision of Naboo formed before them, small and unassuming in the dark reaches of the Outer Rim. The Jedi Knight shook his head, wondering what it was about this blasted planet that kept drawing them back here; "Well, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "We have a job to do. Let's do it."

He turned, looking across every set of eyes on the bridge. "I speak to you as a General, not a Jedi. We lost this planet due to our own lack of foresight before - we now have an opportunity to right these wrongs. Let's make it as quick and as painless as possible."

He paced across the bridge and stood around the holo-map again. "Have all pilots man their ships. The first wave is to go in and judge what we're up against. We then can prepare for the full onslaught, which I shall lead."

He looked to a man on Tarkin's left. "Deploy the First Wave, commander," he said, then fell silent. The order was soon fulfilled, and the Republic fighters were to be seen gliding out in formation to the blue-and-green orb that the Trade Federation held strong.

It was one big trap - everyone knew it - and it had taken Obi-Wan one Hell of an argument to sway the militia to take on this mission and to liberate Naboo, a planet too many felt had been given one too many chances as it was. They had argued in force against it - whilst they were being occupied here, who knew what General Grievous was up to- but General Kenobi had had no choice, and the Mortal Militia eventually saw things his way. People could not be allowed to be sacrificed whilst the Republic Army waited for the next appearance of the Droid General.

Terrible things were beginning to happen now all over the place because of that monster. Kit Fisto and his army had been all but decimated far out at Toola, and word had it that a recent skirmish in the Zhar system had left Yarael Poof amongst the casualties. Adi Gallia was still on the go near Riflor, but things weren't looking good, especially as it was practically impossible for the Republic to continue restocking its army with men and machines at the current rate it was losing them. All anyone could do was to pray for some salvation from this madness…

* * *

The Droid General was up to more than no good, and if the Republic didn't look lively soon, they were going to suffer a horrendous defeat. Grievous was currently staring out from his flagship at the Republic's most precious jewel and its most valued treasure - the galactic capital of Coruscant. He was just far enough out of range to remain unnoticed for the time being. Soon, though, he was going to launch his most ambitious sortie and attempt to take Coruscant for himself. His attack force was all but ready and the Republic were far too occupied elsewhere to be too large a threat as of yet. He was well aware that, once the alarm was raised, that the Republic would not be long in rushing back to defend their capital, but he only needed enough time to get onto the surface. The rest of the war he had no qualms in fighting out here, in the space around the capital itself. It would be fun.

"Are we ready?" he asked Po Nudo, the Aqualish senator who, following the Separatist victory at Toola, had not long ago joined the General aboard his flagship.

"Whenever you are, General," he replied with an obsequious, low bow, "Tikkes's army is now in position, as are Shu Mai's and our other factions."

Grievous nodded and turned to leave the bridge - this was it.

The lonely lightsabre-chimes sang a mournful tune as he paced away, and he hissed in his wake, "Commence stage one, senator."

Nudo bowed again. "At once, General."

* * *

Back at the Chancellery, Padmé hooked her arm round Serenn's elbow and together they crossed the precipice and walked over the brooding, blood red carpet, before halting at the dais at the far end of the chamber. The chair behind the desk rotated, and Palpatine's cold, blue eyes greeted them. "Welcome my friends. I've been waiting for you," he said, before he sat back and studied the two with mild interest, "My, my, you _have_ been through the wars, haven't you?" He suddenly chuckled to himself, "Oh, you must forgive my terrible pun… how insensitive of me." He then laughed heartily; it was one of those aristocratic chortles that was better placed at a cocktail party than in a dictator's office.

"And where are my manners?" he went on, wafting his hands airily about himself, "I am sorry, my Lord. You'll no longer need those."

Padmé's brow furrowed as she watched the Chancellor merely incline his head toward Serenn. The next thing she heard, causing her to spring away from the Count, was Dooku's handcuffs drop, with a numbed clunk, onto the carpet below.

She glared back at the Chancellor - so it was true. He was a master of the Force.

Serenn rubbed his wrists, seeming on edge. He felt lost without his lightsabre by his side - he'd never been without a lightsabre in his life.

"So, here we are," Palpatine mused, getting to his feet and rubbing his hands together, "The Chancellor and his two favourite political protagonists." He laughed under his breath, coming down the steps toward them; "The Charismatic Separatist and the infamous Queen from Naboo." He halted in front of the two and looked between them again. "Oh, what a pair you two have made!" - he reached out and patted Serenn on the shoulder - "Good show, old boy. Well done."

Padmé suddenly felt that she had lost the plot. She took a small step backward and waited until Serenn's eyes turned back on her. When they did, the signs were not good; he looked more remorseful than he had ever done so before in his life, and that meant something. His shoulders were sagging and his noble demeanour was all but gone.

"Have you enjoyed your time with Tyranus here?" Palpatine then asked Padmé, looking at her as though she were a mere conquest, not a person at all.

She dismissed this as one of the many emerging facets of Palpatine's unpleasant character, and just exchanged glances with Serenn again; he really wasn't sending her good signals. "'Tyranus'?" she asked, swallowing hard.

Palpatine laughed - that laugh stung Padmé to the core, making her feel as though she had been incredibly stupid and missed something crucial to this whole affair. Again, she looked to Serenn for answers, but she only met his down-turned gaze as he once more refused to meet her eyes.

"Yes, seek your answers from him. He has them all," Palpatine teased, walking round behind the young Nubian and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Padmé gasped in anguish - she thought she had been in agony when Serenn, all that time ago, and sent sensations of coldness and despair through her body as he touched her, but that had been nothing next to the deathly touch of the Chancellor. The sensation of it was so terrible that it almost drove her into paralysis. She shuddered, striving to stay in control of herself, as she felt the man run his fingers across her shoulder, over her nape, then back down the other shoulder, where he let them rest. He then gripped into her flesh tightly.

She cried out, arrows of ice tearing through her veins.

"Tch, tch, tch," the Sith Master murmured, releasing her from this Hell a moment later and pacing away, "You have been a bad girl, haven't you, my lady?"

She hugged herself, her body shivering uncontrollably, and looked to Dooku again. She wondered why he hadn't started toward Palpatine, or rose any objections to any of this, but he was still looking down, utterly despondent and crestfallen. This miserable show only served to unnerve her even more.

"Poor Anakin…" Palpatine mused, drawing their attention back onto him; Padmé saw that he was looking at her in particular. "After all he has done for you," the man went on, "This is how you repay him."

It was all too clear that he knew what had been going on, about all the humiliating and terrifying things that had happened to her, as well as something of her almost contented state these past few months. She swallowed in shame, glancing down.

"Tell me, I'm curious," the Chancellor continued, moving again to her side, "How do you feel about this man?" He opened his hand toward Dooku and looked to Padmé for her response, whilst she looked at Serenn in turn then back to the Chancellor again, saying nothing.

"Do you love him?" Palpatine asked.

She looked away another time, and he went on, "Do you hate him? He's done some unsightly things to you, hasn't he?"

Padmé silently concurred, her heart heavy.

"But he is a charismatic man," the Chancellor went on, giving the remorseful Count a cold smile, "And intelligent, no doubt, though he doesn't always use his head. But anyway, it is little wonder that he deceived you so easily."

"'Deceived'?" she spluttered, glaring again at the Chancellor.

"Oh my, yes," he nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself, "Isn't that so, Tyranus?"

Padmé looked at Dooku, but he looked far from amused - he'd hung his head and seemed to flinch at the very sight of the Chancellor, at the sound of his very voice.

"Friends, are you?" Padmé inquired, glancing between them both.

"No, merely comrades," Palpatine returned, "Or so I thought."

Dooku swallowed and finally met the Chancellor's gaze with his own.

Padmé looked desperately between them both time and again, seeking that piece of the puzzle she had so disastrously misplaced. "You're not comrades, though… you've been on opposing sides of the war for months!"

"So naïve!" Palpatine smiled.

_"It can't be true! How could it be? The Jedi would know! They'd sense it!"_

"_Just like they sensed the Sith had returned ten years ago…?"_

Padmé had never felt more unsettled by a smile before - she wished the Chancellor would stop doing it; "What? What are you talking about?"

"You haven't guessed?" he teased, continuing to prowl about the chamber like a restless predator, his leering eyes filled with a malicious glee, "Oh, how I was mistaken to have once thought you intelligent."

"Stop it, _my lord_," Dooku growled between gritted teeth, giving the Chancellor a harsh glare. "There's no need for this."

Palpatine wasn't quite so amused by Serenn's lack of respect, and his features paled, creating an impassive yet somehow menacing milieu. "My, my… in bad humour, are we, Tyranus?"

Padmé shook her head. "'Tyranus'?" she repeated, looking to Serenn yet again for answers.

"Oh, my dear, hasn't he told you?"

Padmé glared back at Palpatine now. "Told me what?"

"Would you like to tell her, my boy?"

"What in the Force's name is going on?" she yelled, rounding on Dooku, who looked like he was swinging between a towering rage and a withdrawn depression within.

"He wasn't lying about the Sith Lord in the senate," Palpatine drawled for him.

Padmé was back looking at Palpatine again. "So you _are _?"

"The Sith Master, yes. Pity no one else really picked up on the fact, but I should be content with the blindness of those Jedi fools."

Padmé shook her head. "You sick, twisted… you-"

Palpatine laughed, sprawling back in his chair and seeming to appear twenty years younger; "Oh, if this is the abuse I warrant, what have you got in store for Tyranus, here?"

"'Tyranus'?"

Padmé glared at the Chancellor, trying to read between the lines, trying to see beyond this name of 'Tyranus'.

"Yes, he told you that a Sith Lord controlled the senate," Palpatine laughed, his mouth stretching wide with a twisted hilarity as he strove to contain himself, "He never told you that a Sith Lord controlled the Separatists, too!"

The whole world, every day of the past few months under Dooku's wing, came crashing down on Padmé's soul; "What?" she gasped.

Dooku had frozen.

No one made any comments so, numb with horror, she turned once more on Serenn and asked, "Is this true?"

"Of course it is," Palpatine grimaced, rising back to his feet. "What a team we make, Lord Tyranus! What fools were the Jedi to think that only one side of their war might be affected by the Sith! What fools!"

Once again, Padmé felt she were back at square one. This terrible man she had almost given herself to trust, despite everything, had played her for an absolute fool after all. Why had she ever thought that he could change? "You…" she stuttered at the Count, backing away from him in disgust, "You're the second Sith, aren't you? You turned me from the Republic, from the institution suffering under one Sith, only to lead me into the nest of the other - _your _nest! You, you-"

"Oh, words escape her, Tyranus," Palpatine smirked, stepping beside him and giving him an outwardly friendly pat on the shoulder.

Padmé glowered at him, tears of rage filling her eyes and a dark emptiness infesting her heart; she had been doomed from the start if both sides of the war were, in effect, the same.

"And just when she'd been starting to trust you," Palpatine added in a hushed tone.

Dooku glanced at him, brow contracted, and master and apprentice stared at one another. After a moment, the Chancellor withdrew his gaze and paced away, saying, "But enough's enough. It is time to move on."

He clicked his fingers and, emerging from the shadows, completely hidden up until now, came the Assassin. He walked up to the Chancellor and placed Dooku's lightsabre in his Master's grasp, before he then bowed and backed away once more into the gloom. Padmé eyed the tall, dark stranger again, looking into those eyes with a feeling of foreboding.

Palpatine, meanwhile, looked over Serenn's lightsabre and turned it over several times in his palm; "I always liked your style, Lord Tyranus. There was always an essence of nostalgia about it, of the glorious 'old days', as one might call them." He ran a finger down the curved hilt, "So elegant, so beautiful, and yet -" He tossed it back at the man and Serenn caught it "- so obsolete."

Serenn stared back at his Master, a rising sense of dismay filling his heart.

"And just like you are now obsolete to the Jedi and the new era," the Sith Master explained, "I feel that young Padmé here has also become obsolete, and has outlived her service to us. So, Lord Tyranus, I think it would be wise to put her out of her misery."

The Chancellor's eyes flared at Padmé and, with a waft of his hand, he sent her tumbling over onto the floor. "Kill her," he commanded.

Padmé gasped and felt her stomach flip.

Serenn, as of yet, hadn't made a move - he was still gripping his 'sabre between his hands, his larynx bobbing up and down as he swallowed convulsively. Thoughts swirled through his mind in a hectic blizzard, and he could scarcely bring himself to concentrate. That was until his brown eyes met the blue ones of the Assassin, and there he found his ground.

Padmé didn't realise it at first, but she soon noticed that Serenn and the Assassin were eyeing one-another up quite darkly, as if daring the other to make the next move, to take the next step.

Palpatine moved between them both though, breaking their stare and casting upon each a contemplative glance, before he then slowly retreated across his office to retake his seat, and from there waited for the show to continue, his hands curled loosely over the arms of his throne and his countenance grave.

The silent sparring match having been ended, Dooku moved his glance onto Padmé; he was breathing unsteadily and his eyes were glassy.

"Well, get a move on!" came the Chancellor's sharp command from across the room, causing the Count to close his eyes in a futile desire for more time; "After all you've done to her, this should prove little challenge. See it as… an act of 'mercy'."

The word 'mercy' was spoken in such a way that Padmé felt that the Chancellor found the mere allusion to such a thing ridiculous. She unthinkingly began to drag herself back across the scarlet carpet, hoping that this was a bad dream, and sought some way to escape.

Serenn continued to watch her, but still made no move. He looked again to the Assassin, who had folded his arms and now stood in the most conceited manner possible, waiting for him to act. Driven by this, the Count's face suddenly cast itself into a look of dark resolution, one which frightened Padmé because she knew she had seen it before…

_"Behave young lady. You know that I can't abide vain strugglers…"_

'Please, no…' Padmé prayed over and over in her mind as she watched Dooku march toward her with such determination she could think this meant nothing but death. She had sworn she would never fear death, but this was just so awful - and again she asked herself how she could ever have possibly believed that this man would change, how had she _ever _even thought that it was possible…?

She looked across now to the aloof Assassin and her eyes pleaded with him to intervene, to stop the Count and to save her life. He shifted in a way that made it seem that he may actually help her, but, glancing at the Chancellor's countenance, he soon changed his mind, and held his ground. And no sooner had she turned back than was Dooku already stood over her, raising the hilt of his weapon behind his head before he pushed the activation button and brought his wicked red blade to life. Their eyes then met in this final moment of fate, but even though this moment lasted little longer than a second, it was long enough for Padmé to see something in the Serenn's gaze, a flicker of something she couldn't quite pinpoint…

Then, with a sudden _swoosh_, he plunged his blade down toward her.

She turned away and closed her eyes. The red blade was but an inch from her skin - she could feel the heat- until it vanished as quickly as it had come. Peeling open her eyes just in time, she watched in disbelief as Dooku veered about, with the dexterity of a younger warrior, and flung his weapon, with all his might, across the room toward the Sith Master!

Time slowed at this critical moment for her, as, in awe, she watched the lightsabre cart-wheel through the air like an immense boomerang, just one great, whirling vortex of fatal, red energy, and all heading straight for the Chancellor! Neither Padmé or Dooku, not even the Assassin himself, could then do anything but hold their breaths…

**TBC…**


	42. One Apprentice

**Author's Notes: **I'm actually panicking - I _really _want to get this done. Tell me I can actually get this done before May 19th! I'm beginning to think that the end of the story keeps moving away from me out of spite… ;)

This chapter could have been better, methinks. But I don't have time to mull over things forever. Credit is due to Jude Watson for a certain recycled line in this chapter from her book, "Darth Maul's Journal", which I confess that I love, and if you haven't read it, do so. It's surprisingly good, especially for a children's book. In fact, it's rather _grim _for a children's book, if I'm honest… She writes a great Sidious. It's a shame her latest SW books haven't been quite so 'good'; her Dooku was terrible in "Legacy of the Jedi"… or so I think. ;) I think that's half the reason I don't get on with the EU - the authors don't write characters how I see them.

And have you all seen the latest trailer…! WOW! Go Sidious, go Sidious, go!

**Padawanmage:** My kneecaps are still intact, so either I've published this chapter quick enough for you, or I've tamed mini-Grievous. ;)

**Kynstar: **Cliff-hangers, the most primitive way of keeping people's attentions. ;) You love them really.

**Cmdr. Gabe E.: **Wow, how did you manage to write five separate reviews in such a short space of time? You always manage to say useful things, as well - thank you for your time. And of course Palpatine isn't gonna die - that'd be a good way to end my story: _'And the Sith Master went splat and they all lived happily ever after'_. ;) LOL.

**REV042175: **Bloody Hell, another new reviewer! Welcome to my twisted altraverse, and thank you for your comments.

**DarkAngel: **I wouldn't have waited three months to publish the last chapters if I hadn't had good reason, believe me. :) Don't hurt me…

**Scarlet Dragon:** We haven't met before either, have we? I'm glad you find my story enjoyable - and you're quite right about our resident Sith Master…

* * *

**Part 42 - One Apprentice**

The blade swung, swung, swung… until CLASH.

The Count drew his lightsabre back into his hand and gathered his resolve - the Chancellor had simply deflected the reckless assault with his own swiftly-drawn blade. There was now a standoff.

"Lord Vader," Palpatine murmured.

The shadows behind the Chancellor suddenly took form again, and the Assassin appeared by Palpatine's side; there was something about this stranger that made him seem to be a mere facet of the darkness, able to merge with it at will.

"Yes, my Master?" the man asked from beneath the swathes that hid all of his visage but his laundry-blue eyes.

"Please take Miss Amidala aside," Palpatine went on, his gaze not leaving Dooku for a moment, "I have 'business' with my old friend here."

Serenn, however, was not about to play along. As soon as he saw the shadowy stranger make a move toward Padmé, he fast took a grip of her arm and pulled her back into his chest, holding his lightsabre across of her. This wasn't a threat to the young Nubian, more of a gesture of protection, and he was determined not to let Vader take her away from him. Padmé didn't struggle against Serenn's hold, either; after the prior 'revelation' session, her mind was simply frothing with irresolution and, right now, between siding with Dooku or siding with the Sith Master, there almost seemed to be no contest; she was simply numb with shock and terror, and thus content to remain where she was.

As the Chancellor watched this show, meanwhile, he laughed and spun his 'sabre about deftly in his hands. A smile, in turn, crept upon 'Lord Vader's' features, for the scenario seemed equally amusing to him. "Come now, Tyranus," Palpatine murmured, opening his hands out in gesture and taking a step in the Count's direction, "We need no more of this."

Serenn still refused to let go of Padmé and held his weapon fast before them both - his mind was a muddle of thoughts and regrets, but he still had some dignity left intact. He could see how everything had worked out, how the Sith Master had aimed to replace him all along (he had guessed that this would be the case for a long time, but he'd never thought that he'd have so much to lose by it, as he did now) and he was determined not to let Lord Sidious, or his 'Lord Vader', have the last laugh.

"It is surprising how things change one, don't you think?" Palpatine drawled on, looking his blade up and down for a moment, "For instance, you are clearly not the same Count Dooku whom I first took under my wing, now, are you?"

Serenn remained silent, his eyes constantly flickering in the way of Vader; he was filled with a feeling of foreboding and he knew something was about to give, yet he had no idea from whence the attack would come. Was Sidious going to set this 'Vader', this contender for his position, on him…? It looked likely. Either way, something had to yield within the next few moments - this strained interval couldn't last.

The Count should have kept his mind on the present rather than on the probable, though, for he might then have been prepared for the Chancellor's sudden onslaught: In the blink of an eye, raw lightning sprang from the Chancellor's fingertips and, coursing through Dooku's body, sent the man flying with a jolt across the room!

Serenn eventually hit the far wall with a painful crack, then tumbled onto the floor.

Padmé, meanwhile, shrieked in shock, and turned with her hands raised to her face as she watched this devastating show of power. Her features went pale and she felt as though she were now alone in the void, her only protection gone and leaving her exposed to the terrible malice that clouded this room. Her mind was so fraught with worries and concerns that she was equally unprepared for the move Lord Vader now made: Opening his hand toward her, the mysterious man manipulated the Force and drew her to him, until she fell with a final thud against his chest. And there she was forced to remain, a prisoner in Darth Vader's grasp.

Dooku's vision swam as he tried to get back to his feet. It took him a moment, but he got there in the end, his gangling legs proving to be quite unstable beneath him. He then rose his line of sight to meet Palpatine's and, inhaling deeply, prepared himself for the worst…

* * *

Obi-Wan placed his headset over his head as he led the second wave of Republic fighters down toward the planet of Naboo. "All wings report in," he said, grasping the control levers hard and heaving a great sigh; 'here we go again' he thought, as the numerous clone troopers uttered their responses in turn over the comm' unit.

This done, he added, "All right lads, let's make it a clean job," and guided his ship on its way.

Wave One had found that the Federation presence on Naboo was rigid but surprisingly thin on the ground. The Trade Fed' had a fair amount of troops - enough to keep the civilians in order - but no vast Droid Army, at least nothing to rival the scale that was stationed here before and during the Battle of Naboo, ten years ago. The plan, now that Wave One had grabbed the Federation's attention, was to draw out the army from the cities and purge them in the country beyond. This simple plan was theoretically sound but vastly unoriginal, and getting the Federation to actually shift themselves and play along was another thing altogether; they might follow, but then again, they might have a clever day and opt out.

The Second Wave of fighters broke through the planet's atmosphere and made their way to the bright and beautiful surface below. Obi licked his lip as he saw the familiar domes of the Nubian architecture come into view, as well as their grand waterfalls and wide, grassy plains. It was a picturesque but doomed planet.

"Blue Group, break away, come in from the east. Yellow Group, carry on and make a pass at the sentries over Ohta Gunga. Red Group, you're with me. Exactly as we have planned, boys - move out!"

A round of 'Rogers' and what-not drifted General Kenobi's way, and he then set his mind on the task at hand.

* * *

Serenn had to call upon the Force to aid him in this contest, for he would have no chance otherwise. Taking a great leap backward, he watched as the Sith Master pounced like a cat, defying both his age and form as he vaulted from the raised dais and landed solidly on the carpet before him. The Chancellor then swung his lightsabre down upon the taller man. Doing all that he could to focus his senses in return, Serenn simply angled his blade up and parried the blow. The two weapons whined and groaned against one-another as they met, and the Count shuddered beneath it.

They glared at each other, daring their opponent to make the next move. It was Dooku who eventually decided to break the deadlock and, with a roar, he threw off Palpatine's blade and sent several cleaving shots flying into the man, each of which the Chancellor parried with gentle, uninterested swings; he just wasn't being pushed. So the Count changed tactic, wheeled about, and came at Sidious from behind with a low sweep at his legs.

The Chancellor again proved himself every bit the acrobat, and flipped over it, landing low and replicating the attack back at Dooku. Serenn in turn cleared the blade with a short leap.

Lord Vader snuffed from across the room at this whilst he gently began to rub Padmé's shoulders. She exhaled shakily in response, the caress serving to do everything but soothe her, and she had to close her eyes as a trickle of the old coldness made its way into her veins. 'Force, not again' she prayed.

Dooku leapt back and back once more, his long legs hindering his movements rather than aiding them. This had always been a combat weakness for him, but rarely had it become such a problem before; the Chancellor was putting him to the ultimate test and, because Palpatine had trained the Count in some of the ways of the Sith, the man obviously knew many of his old protégé's weaknesses… something which didn't help Dooku in the slightest.

Padmé watched warily as the two elder men fought before her; Dooku was fighting as well as usual, but he just couldn't seem to throw off the smaller, more agile Palpatine, and was now being forced to back-step across the office in retreat. Something about the whole thing was unreal, though - it was shocking. Here before her were not two young men, in their prime, but two elder men, and to see two elderly men fight one another was almost horrific. Yet they didn't have the aura of old men - their bodies had defied their ages, and they were as fit as any person half their age, if not younger. The Force it seemed could be a great gift, as well as a curse…

As the two combatants moved across the chamber, Vader made sure to keep out of their way, watching as the fight moved from the back to the front, before then grounding itself for some time on the dais around the Chancellor's desk. Dooku tried to use the table to his advantage, but it was of no use - he leapt upon it to gain some height, but this meant that, as Palpatine sent him down to the floor with a powerful Force-push, he had to fall twice as far, and it hurt twice as much.

Before the Chancellor's blade could then come down on his body, Dooku hurled himself back onto his feet with a fluid acrobatic flip, and took a renewed hold of his lightsabre just in time to parry the next great volley of attacks that were laid upon him.

Despite Serenn's skill, it wasn't long before his fatigue really began to show through - after many weeks of eating a poor diet on an isolated world, where every day had posed a new challenge, one could only expect that he was far from in top physical condition. And the Chancellor took advantage of this. He made Dooku move again and again into the defensive, and threw every possible move at him that would serve to tire the Count only the more rapidly. And when, after a tirade of attacks, he gave the man a moment's breathing space, he thrust his hand out toward him.

The Force rumbled like the vast clouds of a thunderstorm and Padmé could tell, as a shiver ran down her back, that the result was going to be harsh.

There was a split-second moment, where Serenn and Palpatine's eyes held one-another, before, as if yanked back by a rope, the Count flew backwards through the window, his body and limbs spinning out of control as he tumbled through the glass and out onto the ledge beyond…

* * *

Serenn groaned as his vision came back to him. As he pushed himself back to his feet, fragments of glass tinkled across the permacrete, dropping from his clothes and hair, and he felt further sharp shards cut into his hands and knees from below. Once he stood fully erect he looked about himself - there was a fairly wide ledge here, outside of the long windows, but it was not wide enough to be a comfortable duelling platform under any circumstances. And it was a long way down… Everyone knew how high the buildings on Coruscant were, the ones surrounding the senate and temple more so than anywhere else.

It then struck Serenn that he had lost his lightsabre. He patted all over his body, searching vainly across his belt before he then took to looking across the ledge for the lost weapon. In the process of this, he suddenly felt something hit him hard on the back. Freezing, Serenn listened as the offending article then dropped to the floor with an inelegant 'clunk'.

He swallowed.

With great reluctance, he turned to see Lord Sidious stood there, looking completely unruffled and with a fine smirk imprinted upon his visage. Dooku gave him a lingering, jaded gaze before he then turned is eyes down and saw his trusty 'sabre hilt lying there. Opening his hand, the weapon flew straight up into his bloodied palm, and he then held it back out before him, waiting for act two of the show.

"Shall we continue?" Sidious goaded, before his face turned sour and he whirled into his next attack.

The wind billowed up heavily from the cityscape below, thrusting the folds of their clothes aside and moulding them into their bodies as they fought. Their hair, too, rose in protest, like the hackles on a dog's back, whilst their eyes glowed like those of fierce cats. They battled viciously, throwing their weight behind each and every assault, yet they still somehow maintained an aura of finesse about them, of grace and refinement.

Their fight could almost have been choreographed for they moved so swiftly and smoothly, as if they had known long before of exactly where they were to move and to parry in this fight. One foot wrong would have ended it all.

Padmé inhaled, short on breath, as she continued to watch the contest from within the room; what she saw was nothing but a dance of death, for no fight like this could possibly ever leave both protagonists alive at the end. She felt Vader's fingers rub her shoulder again in a terribly gentle way, despite the fact he still held her with an unresisting rigidity… She did her best to ignore it.

The battle moved across the outer ledge, the ratio between the duellists being not unlike that of Maul to Qui-Gon years before, with Sidious clearly being the faster fighter. He just pounced, dodged and somersaulted around Dooku's increasingly slower, yet steadier moves, and did this all with such ease that it was terrifying. In fact Padmé was loathe to admit that Palpatine's style actually reminded her of a larger version of Yoda, which was of little comfort.

Serenn had always been a strong duellist, but right now he was not strong enough. His eyes were burning with concentration and rage, but physical exhaustion and mental anguish were eating him away from within. Sweat poured down his brow as he took Sidious's lightsabre against his, again and again, each time throwing it off and having to move back a little more to ward off the next attack, but his strength only ebbed with every move. It didn't help matters that, all the time, Palpatine's eyes simply served to taunt him and constantly gave him that look of 'surely you can do better!'. And then, with a thunderous blow - one which shook Serenn's every limb - Sidious finally drove Dooku down onto his knees…

Padmé swallowed hard; this was agonising to watch; it was the way the Count dropped, with his shoulders sagging and his poise oozing of defeat, that reminded her of what had happened earlier, when, as the Chancellor had taunted him, Serenn had given off that impression of utter remorse. It was almost heartbreaking… a man once so noble now so broken. But surely he couldn't just give up?

And yet it looked likely. He hung there, on his knees, eyes looking up to Palpatine as the other man swung his lightsabre lazily in a line over the Count's head.

Padmé struggled in Vader's grasp, thrusting her shoulders here and there in an attempt to loosen that iron grip, but to no avail; "Serenn!" she shouted.

It took him a moment to respond, but the Count eventually turned his gaze on her, his chest heaving with exhaustion and his eyes heavy. As he looked at her through an unbroken portion of the window, he saw her face, pallid through the glass, but fixed in an expression of utter desperation. Her eyes pleaded with him to get up, and silently entreated for him to carry on. And then, having taken all this into account, he saw a lone tear roll down her cheek - just one small tear, but something that meant so much to him.

Looking back up to Sidious as the Sith Master loomed over him, Dooku then tore himself back onto his feet and slung his lightsabre up with a renewed strength and vigour. Yes, he could fight on! but it would only be for her.

Padmé allowed herself a faint smile as she saw this, and because of that, she subsequently felt Vader's wrath as he dug his fingers painfully into her shoulder. She cringed, silently rebuked, but would not allow Vader the pleasure of gaining an easy victory, so she endured it all in silence.

On the Count now ploughed into Darth Sidious, his red blade crossing and clashing with the Sith Master's with a renewed, ferocious intensity, sizzling, crackling and sparking. But Sidious was far from phased; a great grin lit up his features and his eyes almost seemed to glow. "Come on, Tyranus!" he goaded, drawing him further back along the permacrete ledge.

Dooku knew it was a provocation, but he was too far beyond the line of rationality to even care; and so on he came, blinded by a rage that was so complete it penetrated his every nerve, bone and sinew.

"That's it!" Sidious laughed, continuing to thrust Dooku's every strike aside. "Kill me if you dare. Strike me down!"

And the Count's eyes said he would do it if he could, if the opportunity arose. And yet the Sith Master just did not seem to be tiring like he was.

And as if all this wasn't enough, strange things then began to happen: The Count's ears suddenly filled with pressure and the very fabric of time slowed before his eyes. Everything faded almost to grey, as if he were taking a back-seat to the present. There was a small, tingling sound in the pits of his ears - he could barely make it out - so he tried to ignore it, and continued to parry Palpatine's attacks, almost without thinking…

But it only got worse. He lunged at Sidious, was shoved aside, evaded the Sith Master's next shot, but was now struggling for sheer control of his senses. Everything was coming to him in echoes, slurring and unnatural. He shook his head and attempted to carry on once more, changing his tact and swinging around, before throwing his weight behind a risky cleaving shot.

Sidious blocked this with a callous chortle, which might have enraged Dooku further if he wasn't so distracted…

The tingling in Serenn's ears just grew louder and louder - it was becoming a clamour - yet the Count still tried to remain focused and carry on.

The Sith Master parried Serenn's next savage attack, as Dooku slung his blade down over his head; "Well, done old friend," he cackled, "Excellent!"

Dooku was clumsy in his next assault, however, by now far too distracted by the sensations in his head to be of any use in battle, and he merely reproduced his prior attack, thus allowing the Sith Master to guess what was coming. Sidious turned this gift to his advantage and trapped the Count's blade down against the floor, before he then swept Dooku's weapon aside and hurled a solid kick into his abdomen.

The lofty man doubled over, winded, and stumbled a little - but he hardly even registered what Sidious had done, for the clamour - which had now become deafening - was taking up all his thoughts. He cringed, flailed, and closed his eyes, staggering backward…

Sidious meanwhile quickly took this opportunity to vault over the Count's head, before taking up position behind him.

Padmé was still watching, filled with intrigue - she could tell that something was wrong with Serenn, yet she had no idea what.

Palpatine was now equally captivated by the Count's behaviour - though he was oblivious to the experience Dooku was having, he was still more than aware that the Force was somehow tightening and accumulating about Dooku's person. For a moment, the Sith Master paused in his tracks, and watched as the Count dropped his lightsabre and put his hands to his ears.

Padmé shook her head - what was wrong with him? Why was he stopping? Had he lost his mind?

The din just continued to increase in Serenn's ears - he gasped and cringed, tears filling his eyes as a dark pain manifested itself in his heart, sending his senses awry. "Stop it," he gasped, "Stop it!"

Then, it did stop, only to explode a second later in the biggest tumult of agony he had ever heard - hundreds and hundreds of cries and yells tore through his body and sent vicious icicles cutting through his veins. His head flew back as though knocked with an immense blow, and he felt a sweat rise all over his skin…

_/…voices cried out in terror… suddenly silenced/_

…and he screamed in pain.

* * *

Obi-Wan was in the middle of a complex flying manoeuvre, swerving over a triplet of Federation tanks, as they all took aim at him and prepared to fire, when he too felt a great horror fill his ears and eat up his heart.

He gasped in shock, as though the very chill of death had passed through him. Losing track of his manoeuvre, he recovered his mind just in time to pull up and prevent himself from crashing, like a kamikaze pilot, into the Trade Federation vehicles below.

Suddenly, he knew where he needed to be. And it wasn't here.

"Red Two, take command," he said hoarsely, his hands shaking, along with the rest of his body; his complexion had paled to a lifeless white and he was also covered in a feverish sweat; "Take over, commander," he repeated, "I have to go."

Red Two didn't question the General. The Militia might, of course, but right now, Obi-Wan didn't care. He had to get back to Coruscant…

* * *

Sidious left no more time - if one had an opportunity to be the victor, they should take it - so he swept his foot at Serenn's ankles and made the man's weary limbs collapse beneath him.

Dooku opened his eyes as he fell, things still seeming to be unreal, even once the inexplicable and terrible sensation had passed. The wind made his sweat-brimmed body feel cool and clammy, and on top of this, he was soon reminded about how tired he truly was, having almost forgotten that it was the Force alone that loaned him the strength to carry on.

His fighting spirit began to filter out in the wake of his delusion, and he faced the truth as he lay there, breathing deeply, that he _couldn't_ win. His poor old limbs diminished back into the realm of reality, and cried out to him in pain and fatigue, begging him to let them have some respite…

Dooku turned about stiffly to face Sidious, face still covered in beads of perspiration, but only found himself on the end of the Sith Master's boot, which slung up beneath his chin and sent his jaws cracking together. He then collapsed backward onto the ledge, vision blurring in-and-out of focus.

"And so it ends…" Sidious mused, again swinging his lightsabre around between his palms.

Serenn tried to haul himself up, but as soon as he made a move, the Sith Master stepped forward and kicked his chest. The Count exhaled and fell prostrate across the ledge once more, defeat crawling through his entire, wearied body.

Padmé watched with a fluttering heart; "Get up," she muttered to herself.

And again, Serenn tried in vain to get to his feet, but another, harsher kick to his ribs sent him sprawling back down with an inconsolable groan.

"Pathetic," Sidious hissed.

Sharing in his Master's triumph, Vader now laughed as he watched the Count waylaid like a vulnerable worm at Sidious's feet. In his grasp, Padmé still hung onto a tiny ray of hope; "Get up," she whispered time and again, "_Please _get up."

With a slight raise of his head, Sidious conjured up the Force and sent Serenn skidding to the very periphery of the permacrete projection. He then made his way across to the crushed warrior and continued to swing his lightsabre between his hands.

Serenn gasped for breath and looked about for his lost lightsabre. As his eyes caught sight of the hilt, laid not far away, behind Palpatine, he opened his aching hand toward it and drew it back into his clutches. He then, with his final ounce of strength, launched himself into one final uppercut…

Sidious's eyes sparkled in surprise, but even this could not overcome him - stepping back, the Sith Master rapidly swung his lightsabre up and sent it tearing through Serenn's elbow!

Dooku was aware of his arm dropping to the floor before it registered with the rest of his body. Everything was surreal, everything didn't feel as though it were happening, so his cry of pain came belatedly, as reality finally registered with his senses. At the same time, he heard Padmé cry out after him, as she, from a distance, witnessed everything that he was almost insensible to.

His knees collapsed for one last time and he fell to the floor.

As Palpatine took up Dooku's lightsabre, it then truly hit the Count that his right arm was severed at the elbow. 'Oh Force' his mind cried out, 'My arm! My arm!' Panic began to take hold of him as his broken nerves screamed out, unable to connect with the appendage they wished to operate; a useless ghost of a memory only existed where that flaming stump now smouldered.

Sidious simply laughed again; "Oh, poetic justice," he tittered, "An eye for an eye, don't they say?"

'Just let me die' was the first thought that then came to Serenn's mind, 'Kill me already'. But his heart almost rebuked such a curse when he turned his weary eyes back onto Padmé, her image coming to him like a grey ghost through the windows. He could see her deep, wide eyes and could almost feel the incessant aura of horror and grief about her person. And then he remembered his own words:

_"I have at least one more thing I need to do before I die."_

And he would not forget it.

"If there can be only one apprentice," the Sith Master now went on, his lightsabre hovering idly above Dooku's chest, "Then one of you must die." He hooked Dooku's 'sabre hilt to his belt and raised his own behind his head. "Who do you think I have chosen to die, Tyranus?"

Palpatine's eyes almost glowed - Serenn could feel the cold wrath, the terrible glee, emitting from them. And then, in but a fraction of a second, the Sith Master swung his blade down

Padmé turned away, eyes closed.

But Sidious's blade did not meet flesh. As his weapon came down, the Count rolled backward, before he flung himself off the edge of the building and gave himself up to the fall beyond.

Palpatine watched the darkness as Dooku's body disappeared into the depths of Coruscant; "Then so be it…" he muttered, swinging his blade round once more in his hand before it fizzled out into nothingness and he returned into the chamber.

**TBC…**


	43. Take and Conquer

**Author's Notes:** Oh dear, this chapter's grim… I hope you're not already down in the dumps when you read this because you might soon be. ;) It's nasty at some points. And things aren't gonna ever start to look up, depending on where your sympathies lie. But that's what Episodes IV, V and VI are for... I think. Hopefully there aren't any inconsistencies here from my last few chapters, but just give me a nudge if you find any - it seems so long since I published the last few parts that I've forgotten some of the finer details. :) Silly me. The next two parts are on the way soon. And I hope this one isn't too brief in places.

**Padawanmage**: Unless I'm mistaken, Padmé was there to see Dook' and Yoda fight in this version of events. I'll have to check, but I'm fairly sure I wrote it that way. And the rest of your questions should hopefully be answered as the story continues. If not, give me nudge later.

**Lauren K**: All your answers lie here within!

**Queeny**: Thanks for the kind words - I'm more confident about getting this done within the next three weeks, now.

**HRHpadmeamidala**: I'll try to make time to check out your fanfic - best of luck with it!

**Cmdr. Gabe E**: Things are getting a bit nasty now… I've got the next two parts almost ready, I'm just thinking of fleshing them out a bit more.

**Leela74**: I'm glad you find this fascinating - in retrospect, it's a bit of a weird story, but it's been fun. I do have another big SW fanfic project in mind for after this, a story I started when I was 14 and now think I can re-write much better. That'll be a Episode 4-to-6 and beyond era piece, though, which'll make a change. And there will be no Dooku in it! Eep.

**Silverwolf47**: Hey don't apologise - I'm sure there are better things for you to do sometimes than keep up to date with this. And I'm really doing my best to meet the deadline, believe me!

**Rebel 3134:** Thank you!

**REV042175:** I find fight scenes hard to write, so I am happy to hear you say that. Thank you.

**Kynstar:** Calm yourself! Heh - I love your reviews. They make me smile. I hope I can entertain you right up till the end.

* * *

**Part 43 - Take and Conquer**

There ensued one of those silences as the battle outside the Supreme Chancellor's office ceased; it wasn't a shocked silence, though - to Padmé it felt as something of a contented silence, a silence that told of Palpatine's utter control of the situation.

With no sign of surprise or even a slight shrug, the Chancellor just walked back into his office and approached Padmé as she stood there, pale and shaking, in Vader's grasp.

The look on the Chancellor's face was strange - it hovered uneasily between the trusting visage of his political guise and the arrogance of the revealed Sith Master.

Taking Dooku's lightsabre between his fingers, the Chancellor dangled it before her face and stared into her eyes. She stared back, swallowing hard, before her hands mechanically opened toward him and he dropped the weapon into her sweaty palms. "I think he would have wanted you to have this," he then said quietly. His lips thus momentarily rose into a smile before he turned and walked away.

Before she even had time to think on this, Padmé was subsequently whisked away by the Assassin, who appeared to have been given full charge of her. Urging her along ahead of him, the man guided her out of the ruined office and, once again, through the corridors of the senate. She soon realised that, contrary to being treated as a prisoner, she was oddly to be treated as a _guest_, and it turned out that a luxurious chamber was her destination rather than the assumed prison cell. This didn't make Padmé feel at all confident in her predicament; she felt completely and utterly sick as it was, and was both afraid and scared. Right now, she felt that she would much rather have fallen to her doom off the edge of the senate building than have ended up here, in the den of the Sith Lords, with every comfort at her feet…

"Welcome to my apartments," Lord Vader said as the doors closed behind them both in the luxury apartment. Padmé felt his grip slacken and his hands slide off her arms as she looked around the room uncertainly; there was a desk, a table, carpet on the floor, curtains at the window, wardrobes, a double bed… everything. She swallowed - something was very wrong. Then the Assassin suddenly rounded on her and stared down into her face. "I do hope you like it," he said.

Her brow furrowed and she gave him a quizzical look.

He chuckled slightly at this and opened his arm to the room; "Well, look around!" he said, "Don't be afraid, for the Force's sake!" He then turned and began to walk away, pulling his dark gauntlets from his hands. "Things can be altered if you like," he went on, "but if--"

"Look, I just don't understand!" Padmé stated suddenly, causing the stranger to pause and look at her. She took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself as the events of the past few weeks - even months - suddenly threatened to cave in on her and add to the seeming absurdity of this situation. "What's going on?" she asked at length.

The stranger leant casually against a wall unit and laughed a little, still with that air of calm and frivolity about him; "Padmé," he said, "You're home!"

She shook her head and tried to weigh things up. Either she was suffering from amnesia and had missed a few days of vital consequence, or this stranger was completely mad; "Excuse me?" she asked again whilst she involuntarily rolled Serenn's lightsabre round and round in her hands.

The stranger's eyes flickered between Padmé's face and the lightsabre, and it lost its edge of optimism for a while, until something suddenly seemed to dawn on him and, straightening up, he reached for the bindings round his head and began to undo them.

Padmé watched in silence as, layer by layer, the black straps fell away, and, as the last swathe fell to the floor, the face of the man beneath finally came into view. He then said, almost as though nothing had happened, "I missed you."

Padmé was still very shaken, her eyes half-filled with tears of fear and uncertainty. The lightsabre was clutched closer to her breast as gasped, "Anakin?".

* * *

The doors stood ajar into the Jedi Temple as Obi-Wan, short on breath and filled with apprehension, skidded to a halt over the threshold. He knew that things were bad - the skies over Coruscant were filled with separatist craft, which the Republic army would no doubt soon engage - but he was not prepared for the scene he now faced down here. As his eyes scanned the sight beyond, his heart leapt forth into his very throat and he had to hold himself steady as his legs threatened to give way. Inside, there was dust and debris everywhere - pillars had been felled, statues destroyed, consoles blasted - yet that was nothing compared to the true atrocity Kenobi observed before his very eyes amidst the clouds. 

Obi shook his head and took a tentative step into the main hall…

Bodies. There were bodies everywhere. There was blood upon the floor and splashed up the walls, like haphazard drops of paint. Hazy rays of unbefitting sunlight shone down in a shower through the high windows above and touched the dead lightly with their gentle fingers, as though fearful of waking them. For many a moment, Obi-Wan could do nothing but stare at this devastation, this massacre…

The hallways of his childhood ran with the sounds of nothingness, the walls in which he had grown up were now stained with the blood of hundreds… His friends were lain amongst the dead, as were his allies, his tutors and his pupils. Ithorians stared blankly into the ceiling, as did Rodians, Dugs and Quarrens - but worse than all this was the fact that most of them were children, small, innocent children; children no more than five years old and others no more than ten, their young eyes open and glazed, their inner fire having been torn from their youthful bodies long before it had even been given the chance to grow. There was nothing left.

_/…voices had cried out in terror…suddenly silenced/_

"No," Kenobi muttered with an urgent sense of denial, "Oh Force, no…"

He took another nervous step into the Temple, his hoarse breaths and unsteady footsteps creating lone sounds of life in the empty, lifeless space. Who could have done this…?

There was then a sound from the Temple depths, an echo rising up from the labyrinth within.

Obi-Wan swallowed, gathering his resolve - whoever or whatever this killing machine was, it was clearly still here. Forcing his feet onward and trying not to think on it, he concentrated on the feeling in his chest - the loss and the agony, the pain and the despair - and used that to fuel his soul, ready for the task at hand; he may have been a Jedi, but he was first and foremost a human being, and slaughter on this scale demanded revenge.

He stepped carefully over the myriad of bodies, clinging to the walls for much needed support, and made his way down the silent corridors toward the source of the sound. The echo had sounded like something falling, a large object crashing to the solid foundations with a great thud. Obi cared not what it had been, so long as he could still find people alive in this place and stop the cause of it all; the Temple had been a living organism, a place that had breathed and grown, and now, because of all this, it was but a shell, devoid of life and filled with darkness. Long shadows crawled up the walls and hovered in the corners, and only helped Obi-Wan feel more uneasy, reminding him of the presence of irrevocable death. As he went on his way, he left every body untouched - his common sense told him he should move them and give them some respect, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The only thing his mind was focused on was finding the murderer and setting things to some kind of rights.

He turned corner after corner, dreading what he would see beyond, and with every step he took, he became more and more uneasy, for he was sure that he knew who was here… The fact was that he could pick up on no life signature, through the Force, of this offender, nor could he sense any presence or entity, and this could only mean that he was back to the fight in the mists on Yavin; it meant that Mace's murderer was responsible…

Obi descended down several levels of the Temple, passing further piled and mutilated corpses (every one taken down by the weapon they once stood by, by the lightsabre) yet he still found no sign of life. Every now and then, he would hear unidentifiable sounds rumble through the foundations, or echo from a distant part of the hallowed building, but he could find no source of them, which made it all seem very otherworldly. Yet despite the chill down his spine and the cold swell of his heart, he kept going - he would face down his fears and he would see this thing dead!

After a long walk over the bloodied carpets and the broken glass, Obi-Wan's ears picked up on the hum of an active lightsabre, one swinging to-and-fro in a combat motion, clashing at intervals with another. A battle - there was hope yet! Obi picked up his feet and ran - there was someone yet alive, and he had to reach them! He had to help them to fend off the enemy.

Kenobi ran faster and faster, following his ears, and taking up his weapon from his hip as he did so, until he took a sharp turn and careened into the Archives.

"Obi-Wan!" cried Ki-Adi Mundi, his cranium caught in the clawed foot of General Grievous and his limbs flailing as he was held up in midair, "Get out of here! Go! While there's still time!"

Obi felt his whole body tremble and he looked from his Jedi comrade into the eyes of General Grievous. The skeletal creature was silent and in control, and had the air of a triumphant victor about him. Ki-Adi had given up struggling and hung there, obviously in pain, and was covered in lacerations and burns. All the droid general needed to do to end it all was squeeze…

'Don't you dare' Kenobi tried to communicate to the droid general, 'Don't you even think about it.'

But it was too late. With a swift crunch, Grievous closed his claws about Ki-Adi's head then dropped the body to the ground. Then, his foot oozing with bone and blood, he slowly placed it back onto the floor and glared at Kenobi. His eyes didn't even hint at any slight emotion.

Obi didn't need to think about anything else. His lip quivering in despair, he simply activated his weapon and ran full-on, screaming, at the savage separatist general. Grievous swept his cloak out behind him in turn and rushed on all fours into the attack, leaping onto his feet in time to pick up two lightsabres and twirl into combat, taking Kenobi's frenzied attacks against his blades with ease.

Files from the archive shelves were strewn across the floor and many of the shelves had collapsed. The computer terminals were destroyed and served as little better than duelling platforms for the Clone Wars' two most significant Generals. There was further chaos on the first floor as well as the ground level of the library, there being all manner of bodies laid about the books, discs and paraphernalia. It all just sickened Obi-Wan to his core, and but served to heighten his fury; ignoring all the pain and the strain, Kenobi just fought on wildly, his principles and the honour of his lost comrades all being at stake - their blood was all over General Greivous's hands today, and that malformed beast would pay.

For all that it was worth, Obi-Wan could have fought with all the strength and will in the universe, but it didn't help things. Now, as before, the courageous Jedi was still simply outmatched by the droid general. And as the battle came to a brief standstill, and Grievous held Obi-Wan's blade aloft, the hybrid droid went on to kick the Jedi and send him flying across the old chamber. With a great thud, Obi fell against a pillar and knocked the bust of one of the Lost Twenty to the floor. There was a crack as the bronze head fell, leaving a great fracture down the figure's carved face.

Obi cringed as he tried to get back to his feet, his back tender from the blow, but had to stop and stare as he turned onto his hands and knees and looked into the eyes of the bust, the face of Count Dooku.

Grievous's shadow overtook the Jedi and Obi smartly turned back onto the creature, stumbling to his feet and preparing for the next round. "It is somehow fitting," the droid said, swinging both lightsabres about him like mere toys, "The face of Count Dooku, cracked…" He sniggered lightly, "He would have found that amusing."

Obi swallowed again but said nothing.

"He once told me not to kill you for… certain reasons."

"That's ridiculous!" Kenobi growled, "He would have killed me on Geonosis if he had had the chance!"

Grievous laughed again in what could best be described as a hoarse, mechanical way; "Foolish Jedi. Is it little wonder that the Republic crumbles when you, its protectors, cannot even see when rings are being run about you?"

Obi back-stepped. "You have a high opinion of yourself, I see."

"Perhaps," the droid grimaced, skulking forward with both sabres still whirring, "The Count would not have killed you on Geonosis. You were merely in the way. You were bait."

"You seem to know an awful lot, too."

"Oh, the Count kept me informed… And even if I don't know everything, I can infer much from guesswork."

Obi laughed sourly, "So you are not going to kill me? Am I still Count Dooku's bait?"

Grievous took to all fours and scrambled up a pillar before leaping behind Obi quicker than the Jedi's eyes could follow; "I do not know what Count Dooku wants anymore," Grievous hissed, just as Kenobi turned around. "For now, I am my own master." He paused, wrists twisting three-hundred-and-sixty degrees and transforming the lightsabres into whirling vortexes to his either side. "In fact, I lie," he murmured, "I know of _one_ thing he wants, or at least desires… but it is not you." He snickered once more, "I no longer even know where he is. If he is still alive."

Obi-Wan couldn't care less any more. "So you just decided to go on a killing spree, did you? To pass the time?" He shook in anger, trying to keep the rage down, "My family are _dead_!" he yelled, "and it's all your fault!" Thus, once again overcome by emotion, the Jedi simply charged.

Grievous's two vortexes were now turned on Obi-Wan and the General used them like pulsating, deadly shields. Kenobi could do absolutely nothing to penetrate them; all he received for his labours was the constant sound of the droid general's merciless laugh. This only made him hit out at the droid harder and harder, but still he made no further gains. He consequently felt the brunt of Grievous's foot against his abdomen, before he again tumbled away into a pillar and fell to the ground in a heap.

"Oh you have potential, no doubt," the General said, "But it is not enough to warrant my sparing you. The era of the Jedi is over, young one, and a new era is about to begin. It is time for you to evolve or to be eliminated."

Obi coughed as he yet again got himself onto his feet and staggered in pain. He suddenly felt a shadow of depression overtake him and he half believed what the General was saying - was there really anything left for his kind any more? What Jedi could possibly face a creature of Grievous's likes and win?

Obi sighed and was almost prepared to throw in the towel, but his ever-optimistic mind tried to buoy him up, and it told him that nothing was invincible, that nothing was immortal, and that there had to be a way to bring Grievous down.

The Jedi gave the creature another glare and shook his head, trying to comprehend the devastation around him; "You killed everyone…" he whispered, gesturing about himself despondently, "There was no need. No reason."

"I am doing my duty," Grievous countered.

"But for who?" Kenobi scoffed loudly, "The Sith Master!"

The General crossed his lightsabres over his chest. "For the sake of the Republic," he said, "And if you had lived, General Obi-Wan Kenobi, you might one day have understood. But you won't live…" And swiftly, the droid general used a pillar behind him as leverage, then thrust himself forward, flying at Obi-Wan, with both lightsabres blazing.

Obi had rarely felt pain as far as withstanding another lightsabre with his own went, but this time he truly did. As the giant droid catapulted into him, every parry Kenobi made against Grievous's weapons sent shockwaves through his skeleton, and he was surprised that his very bones didn't shatter within him. He cried out in physical agony as he was beaten down to the floor, bruised and weakened by the mere power of this mechanised warrior. He was fortunate to find a short recess in the onslaught through which he could roll away and scamper off through the pillars and shelves to safety. All he could hear as he fled was Grievous's terrible laugh; "Yes, run little Jedi!" the triumphant warrior shouted, "Run! I will still catch you in the end, when you can go on no more…"

Obi rushed wildly between and under the debris of the Archives, until he fell beneath a collapsed shelf and hid, peering out of it like a cornered rodent being pursued by a ravenous feline. The wrist he had once fractured was particularly beginning to ache and bring up those bad memories from the past where this nightmarish droid had once again got the better of him. Obi-Wan just couldn't focus, he was so filled with rage and misery, and this only played against him. He couldn't afford to be in such a state of mind when his opponent was perhaps the greatest Jedi-fighter, and killer, in history.

The General was steadily searching for him, upturning all the fallen shelves and objects as he searched for Kenobi's hidden body. "I know you're here," he hissed, opting in due course to just cut through everything rather than waste his time looking under them for his prey. Obi knew that that meant trouble - he might never be uncovered, but at the rate the General was going, he'd still end up dead.

Suddenly, there was movement across the hall! A Youngling appeared from behind a pillar, shaking and terrified, and made a run for the door!

"Oh, Force!" Obi shouted. He tore out from his hiding place and prepared to fling the child aside with the Force - but Grievous was too quick for him. Seeing the child, the mighty droid clambered over the walls and debris with ease, and dropped before the child in an instant. Before the poor little lad could even scream, he had been halved down the middle by the rapid swing of one of the General's blades.

Obi shuddered in horror but held his ground, even as the frightening yellow-eyes of Grievous swivelled onto him; "And now," the creature quietly uttered, "We finish it."

But there was another disturbance, a great rumble from the doorway, drawing the attention of both Grievous and Kenobi to it. Stood in the great, yawning threshold of the Archives was the diminutive Master Yoda! 'Thank the Force' Obi-Wan thought.

Grievous's full attention was now turned to the Jedi Master like a dog who had just caught sight of a far more interesting toy. "Jedi Master Yoda," he hissed, twisting his lightsabres into place by his sides and performing a mock salute, "We are honoured."

The green Jedi Master's face was carved in a manner that frightened Obi-Wan, so he was surprised that Grievous was not more cautious. The droid general might be called thick-skinned if it were not a contradiction of terms.

"We are somewhat related, you and I," the General went on, "Your teachings have been passed from your apprentice down to me. You might like to know that your Padawan made a fine tutor. It is a pity that it has now come to this." He then snickered once more.

"Misled has my Padawan been," the small Jedi replied, "To such skills teach to you. Respected is power to be, not abused."

"It will be a true honour to add your lightsabre to my collection, Jedi Master," Grievous went on, "Will you oblige me?"

The small Jedi dropped his cane and took up his weapon.

"I presumed that you would," the General hissed, before he scrambled at speed toward the Jedi on all fours and with his humming blades at the ready. Yoda activated his blade in turn and flung himself at the unbeatable General, and a deadly duel ensued.

Obi-Wan just froze in awe as the two blades of the droid general fizzled and whirred against Master Yoda's small green weapon.

The blurring motion of the three lightsabres had a dizzying effect on Obi-Wan, but one thing that he noticed above all others was the speed of Master Yoda - Grievous just could not catch him with his feet as he usually did with his other, less competent opponents. This soon led to a certain tension building up between them, and it wasn't long before it became obvious that the General was getting rather frustrated. If Yoda leapt onto a console, he was gone again by the time Grievous's blade got there; if Yoda pounced onto the floor, Grievous's foot missed him by a mile, as he again moved away.

"What has been said of you is fairly accurate," Grievous growled at length, "You are the best."

Yoda said nothing. Continuing to leap and twirl about the hybrid droid, he let his mind fall back into the Force and saw the General as if in slow motion, foreseeing how and where he was going to move before he'd even thought about it, such was the power of the Jedi Master. This led him to eventually dodge a double-sabre shot, before he then swung his blade up and ran a deep gash through the metal housing of Grievous's thigh.

The General had little capacity left to feel pain, but the wound still left him in shock and anger. Screaming out in a terrible mechanical manner - a cry which shook Obi-Wan to his very soul - a far darker aura now overcame the General, and his eyes seemed to flare red; for the first time, Obi-Wan Kenobi saw General Grievous in his fullest rage.

Roaring out in a savage antagonism, the General flung himself at super speed toward Yoda. Obi-Wan thought he was seeing things as the General somersaulted across the floor and soon appeared to be sporting four separate blades. But he wasn't seeing things; the droid's two arms had each split into two, and thus, with four appendages on the go, the General had taken up two more lightsabres and was throwing all his weight behind his fourfold attack on Yoda.

Miraculously, Yoda didn't even look slightly dismayed, so deeply was he concentrating, but Kenobi still couldn't help but feel that he ought to help him; four blades was never a good prospect for any Jedi Knight to face in battle. "Master Yoda!" Obi cried, preparing to pick up his blade and rush into the fray; but he was stopped. _/Help me, do not/_ Yoda's voice whispered into his mind, _/Help me, do not./_

So Obi hung back in distress, licking his lip as he watched the deranged mutant droid thrust and swing his four blades about with a terrifying precision - yet still the small Master Yoda somehow managed to dodge each and every one of them.

More and more aggravation was building up behind Grievous's feral eyes as Yoda proved unstoppable, and it must have dawned upon the droid that he had finally met his match. And Yoda had some kind of plan up his sleeve. Obi-Wan could tell from how the Jedi Master simply stalled on making any attacks - he remained evasive and in the defence until he found the appropriate opportunity to strike. And this he did when, Grievous's four blades crossing, he sprang forth at the General and took up residence beneath his chest cavity.

Grievous was too far gone in the regions of fury and recklessness to care what he was now doing - all that mattered was Yoda's destruction - thus, in a desperate move, he plunged two of his lightsabres straight through his own chest! At this same moment, Yoda appeared again from behind Grievous's head, somehow having manoeuvred at such speed to move from the General's chest and evade the attack.

Grievous seemed to pause for a moment. With a heavy sigh, he slowly hauled his two blades from his abdomen and stared across at Obi-Wan, in the distance. After taking in several more laborious, deep breaths, Grievous dropped down onto his knees and let his head hang. Two lightsabres dropped from two hands, and then the other two lightsabres dropped a second later.

"Defeat," the General muttered, hoarse breaths rasping out of his mechanical mouth. "It hurts." He heaved another breath. "I have failed."

Obi-Wan took a step back as Grievous's eyes landed on him again. Even though he knew the droid general was defeated, he was still terrified of him.

"Defeat," Grievous repeated again.

And, taking Obi-Wan by complete surprise, Yoda swiftly slung his blade across Grievous's throat and the General's lifeless skull hit the floor, the eyes still open and glaring.

Kenobi sighed in bitter relief, and had to turn away, unable to face those feral pupils any longer. Ultimately, he heard Yoda's cane approach, and he looked down at the diminutive Jedi Master following his grim triumph. The look they shared was one of mutual grief and sorrow - their family had been taken from them in the most savage manner possible, and now there were few left.

"Leave, we must, Master Kenobi," Yoda said as he looked across the wrecked archives, "No longer safe, the Republic is."

"But Master Yoda…"

"No buts," Yoda countered, "Turned on us the Republic has. To the Chancellor they now look for answers. To him they now command respect."

"I don't understand. What's happened?"

Yoda sighed and looked away. "A democracy we soon shall not be. A dictatorship the Republic has all but become. Reshaped the political systems, Palpatine has. In sole command is he now."

"He can't do that!"

"Done it he already has. Emergency powers he has long had, Master Kenobi, and now fully used them has he. A dictatorship now have we become, and no part in it can we play."

Slow realisation dawned on Kenobi; "He means to destroy us," he whispered.

"Outlaws we soon shall be, unless join this dictatorship we do and to its laws succumb." Yoda sighed again, "But join it, we shall not."

Obi-Wan shook his head, unable to quite believe it. "And what of the separatists?" he asked.

"Still fighting they are. A battle being fought there is."

Obi nodded, having seen the start of the battle as he entered the planet.

"But soon overthrown they shall be. Win the battle the Republic shall." Yoda paused, then added, "Strange things are happening, Master Kenobi. Knows what he is doing, the Sith Lord does."

Obi-Wan swallowed. "Of course… the Sith Lord."

"Won he has. This round we have lost."

Obi shook his head. "But who is he? Where is he?"

Yoda shook his head. "Not the time to tell, it is," he said, "In the galaxy, still friends we have. To them we now must go. Hurry."

Obi-Wan had no intention of questioning him, so they both turned and went about escaping the planet.

* * *

Lord Vader returned to Padmé's side and his metallic fingers brushed her cheek whilst she stood there, frozen in horror; "It's all right," he whispered soothingly, "He's gone now. You're safe. You're back with me again." 

But still, she just stared at him, unable to string any words together. His hair was long and scraggy, his eyes sharp and unforgiving… He was the same, but so different.

"Come on, it's okay," Vader continued, picking up on her nervousness and her unease.

Finally, after much effort, Padmé managed to mutter, "You joined him."

Darth's smile remained, though it seemed to slacken a little. "The Emperor?" he asked.

" '_Emperor' _now, is it?" she snarled, though more sharply than she'd intended.

Vader's gaze tightened a little. "He's a good man."

"He's a Sith Lord!"

"Yes, well so am I!" he replied loudly, "Am I an evil monster, Padmé? Am I a disgusting beast? No - not all Sith are like that. Just _some _of them…"

"Serenn, you mean?"

Darth's eyebrows cocked and he mimicked her in turn. "Oh, '_Serenn'_, now is it?"

Padmé took her turn to glare, giving the bloodied lightsabre in her palms a tentative glance.

"After all he did to you…" he went on, shaking his head in disbelief, "Aren't you glad you're free? Aren't you happy that I've saved you?"

"Oh, Anakin…" she sighed, turning away, until, with a yelp, she jumped back as Anakin's metal fist pounded into the wall just by her ear.

"Vader!" he snarled, "My name's Vader."

She almost laughed at his brutality, hoping he wasn't being serious, but it was clear, from the force behind his blue eyes, that he was far from kidding; "'Vader'?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Well, aren't you happy?" he pushed on.

She looked at the 'sabre hilt in her grasp once more, a mistake she shouldn't have made. Picking up on this, Vader viciously tore the weapon from her grasp and slung it across his room; "What's wrong with you?" he yelled at her, "He dishonoured you, used you, raped you! Doesn't that mean anything? Doesn't that make you sick with hate?"

"_Yes_, but --!"

"Then _why _aren't you happy?" he thundered, his once placid visage rapidly turning sour, "Have I wasted all my time and all my effort trying to rescue you? I've sacrificed _everything_ for you, and this is what you give me in return? _This _is how you repay me!"

Padmé was leaning back against the wall now, feeling the tears rush down her cheeks; "Anakin, please!"

"VADER! My name's Vader!" he bellowed.

She turned into the wall, trying to get away from that gaze, from the heat and the rage. She sank down to her knees and tried to hold back the tears, but they just wouldn't obey.

He inhaled deeply. "So this is how badly he's poisoned you, is it? So much that you would choose him over me!"

"That's not true," she spluttered, but Vader could hear no solid foundation in her words. He looked as though he were trying to contain himself, his lip trembling with suppressed rage.

"Come back to me, Padmé," he said, "Forget about the past. Let's just forget any of that happened. Let's go back to how things were before, when --"

"Oh, are you so naïve!" she choked, "I can't forget what has happened. I can't recover just like that!" She shakily got to her feet again, moving across the wall away from him; "Things have happened that can't be taken back," she went on, "And it's going to take some time for me to get over it all… to adapt to life as it is _now_."

Vader's face seemed to only darken, an impatience brewing within him; "I haven't got years to spare for you, Padmé. How long will I have to wait?"

She shook her head, trying to identify some aspect of the old Anakin within this persona he called 'Vader', trying to find something she could use to get back onto safe ground, on the level of the man she had fallen in love with; "What's wrong with you? You're not the man I remember."

"That's rich, coming from you."

Her eyebrows arched. "Meaning what?"

He smiled at her, but it was an arrogant, foul smile, one she'd never hoped to have seen grace his hansom features; "He raped you, didn't he?" he muttered, "I know. The Force told me so. But what did you do but stay with him, become his loyal lapdog?"

She shook her head again, "You have no idea…"

"Don't I?"

"No! For Force's sake, don't do this to me! I've been through so much!"

"You could have fooled me."

"I wanted to save myself for you, I truly did! I love you, Anakin!"

There was a blur of motion as Anakin swung his metal fist back into Padmé's face and sent her, with a cry, down onto the floor.

"Lies, all LIES!" he yelled, "You dim-witted whore, damned slut! You think I'm so stupid as to fall for all this?"

She was too shocked by what she was hearing emerge from his mouth to care about the pain in her jaw, and she just stared idly at him as blood crept from her lip to the floor.

He laughed coldly; "I'd hoped that he was lying, I'd hoped that I could prove the Emperor wrong, but no, it again appears that he was right."

"What…?" she gasped.

"My Master said you'd be like this, that you loved _him_…"

"I don't --"

"You do! I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice! You can't stop staring at his damned lightsabre, for crying out loud!"

"You're not listening to me!" she protested.

"I don't have to!" he seethed as he began stepping forcefully in her direction; she saw a fire in his eyes that she'd seen somewhere else before, and it unnerved her. Scrambling to her feet, she found herself rapidly trying to avoid him, rushing backward across the room as he continued to loom over her. Panic soon erupted in her abdomen and she swiftly turned to run from him - but he grabbed her from behind, taking a strong grip of her beneath her elbow, before he hurled her across the room.

Stumbling into the centre of the chamber and falling awkwardly to the floor with a yelp, Padmé froze up, her body trembling all over. She couldn't take her eyes off Anakin, she was so very afraid…

"You disgust me," Vader growled, approaching her, "After everything I've done, I find that I was wrong about you. You _did _love him."

He dropped to his knees by her side, pinning her to the floor by either arm, "And had you conceived, you'd have loved his child, no doubt?"

Padmé's eyes widened in horror. "That's unfair Anakin, and you know it."

"It's Vader, my love," he snarled sarcastically, looking her up and down as though she were some piece of filth, "And I swear that I'd kill any offspring of that man's blood, no matter from what _wench_ it came."

Padmé could barely bring herself to believe that the same man she'd fallen in love with was now stood over her like some predatory beast, preparing to kill; it was all almost inconceivable.

"I think it's time for some reclamation," he mused, talking as though the subject vaguely interested him, "These things can be 'rectified'…"

Padmé gasped as she felt his hand run down her body, filling her with an old, cold sensation that she knew far too well; it was there, in the pit of her stomach, the iciness, the control, everything that Dooku had first put her through now returning under Anakin's influence. She felt her breaths quicken and her mind fill with a cloudy haze…

Darth snickered, seeming nothing but empowered by this; "I think it's time," he continued, lowering his head and brushing his lips over her eyes, "That I take you back."

**TBC…**


	44. Crushed

**Author's Notes:** Well… this Dooku-nut is going to be grieving (no pun intended) when she sees Episode III in two and a half weeks. Despite being spoiler-free, I've worked out what's gonna happen to the Count from short glimpses of him vs. Ani' on TV spots and by going too far in the Lego video game (I covered my eyes when 'it' happened, but it doesn't take a lot of guesswork to put the other puzzle pieces in place). I'm a bit upset by it, but this **is **gonna be the darkest SW film, so I shouldn't really have expected much less. Or more. Whichever.

Anyway, here's the next "Eclipse" chapter. I've got another one almost done - I was just way too tired last night to finish editing it, so one will have to do for today. I'm confident that I'm gonna get this done before "Revenge" comes out, so keep prodding me and whatnot to make sure I do! And the response to the last chapter was _interesting_, people. It was overwhelmingly positive! I think you enjoyed all the angsty nastiness. You must all be as twisted as me. ;) Heh.

**Padawanmage:** I think there's been one other chapter at least without Dook' in it. I think.

**Lauren K:** I'm sorry I had to kill Grievous off. It was then or never, really. You'll see him on the big screen soon, anyway.

**HRHPadmeAmidala:** I'm glad you liked it. Not long until RotS comes out now!

**Kynstar:** I don't half torture Padmé, do I? She'll never thank me for it! Heh.

**Queeny:** Thank you so much - I'm glad you're enjoying this. This chapter isn't quite so shocking, but they can't all be.

**REV042175:** Again, thank you. It was quite hard work, that chapter, with all the angst, but I think it came out well, too.

**Silverwolf47:** You'll just have to keep reading to find out, won't you?

* * *

**Part 44 - Crushed**

It was night time on Coruscant, and Padmé was in bed, lying next to Anakin - or 'Vader' as he now had to be called. Whilst he was sleeping peacefully, Padmé's nights were only fraught by terror. She wasn't sure how many days or even weeks had passed since she had been brought here - she had not counted. She was so very unhappy that she didn't quite know where she was or what was going on; nothing mattered any more - it was all just chaos. The tragic thing was that she had always believed that she would be saved in the end and that her suffering would stop - but never had she expected anything like this, for her period of suffering to end with a further period of agony.

Padmé remembered, back when she had first fallen under Count Dooku's wing, that she had always clung onto one tiny thread of hope, and that had been that Anakin would save her in the end. She had been torn from him right at the start, upon her proclamation of her love for him, and after that she had almost been forced to see him savagely executed in the Geonosians' arena - but Anakin had escaped that situation, and he and Obi-Wan had consequently pursued both her and Count Dooku to the latter's secret hanger, and there fought.

Serenn had proven himself a capable swordsman when the two Jedi had charged recklessly into battle against him, and Anakin had certainly come out of the skirmish badly, losing his arm, but at least Master Yoda had arrived to save the day and to see the Count off. The only person Yoda hadn't saved was her, and she had subsequently been swept away from Geonosis on to Serenno, the Count's home and the scene of her worst nightmare. And the rest was history. But she had hoped and prayed that, despite everything that had happened, Anakin would one day come for her - even as things took a turn for the very worst, through every dark moment and with every tear she had shed, she had still believed that she would not be left to suffer for long. Anakin had, of course, tried to rescue her when she had been taken to Naboo, but to no avail - he had only run straight into Count Dooku's grasp and thence made matters much worse, leaving such a mark on the Count that Dooku's fury had sent him overboard with her that evening. She didn't need reminding of all that.

But her hope had then withered… The days and weeks had passed and, as time went on, things changed. Anakin had been lost to the universe, and she had been caught in the midst of a war she'd never wanted to happen, strung up between the Republic she had wanted to serve, and the Confederacy that she had been blackmailed to serve. It had begun to look unlikely that her prayers would ever be answered - Anakin was clearly not coming for her; he just wasn't able to - so she had been stuck with Count Serenn Dooku.

By then, however, this man had begun to confuse her. Their relationship had started off as a rather one-sided and cruel affair, a vicious game that the Count seemed to like playing with her - he had had the power to possess her and to almost control her, and he had used his influence to make her help his cause, as well as, she then assumed, to use her to fulfil some twisted desires of his own - but the man who had thrown himself off of the senate in the fight with Sidious not long ago wasn't the same man who had forced a kiss on her in his office on Geonosis. Something had changed in him, and, she feared, in her as well. The time they had spent together on the uncivilised planet, and on Oovo before, had cemented a strange bond between them, and had brought out more good than bad in them both. The man who had taken her against her will had seemed to have vanished, and had left behind him a man depressed by what he had done and pessimistic about both his fate and hers. 'Go to Alderaan', he had asked her, 'Please' - and she could still see those intense eyes before her, begging and pleading. He had known that all this with Darth Vader had awaited her - the Force must have told him, or something - but she had just said no, and thus had given herself up to the Sith Lords in the same breath.

But if Serenn had just come clean with her! If he had only said, 'Look, Padmé, _I'm_ the other Sith Lord, and I'm sorry' then she might have been swayed to go to Alderaan. She might have understood…

'Don't be stupid,' her mind then told her, 'You weren't about to leave him.'

And why not? What had it been about that wretched man that had drawn her to him, that had kept her by his side? _What_? Was Anakin partially right? Did she have feelings for that man, regardless of what he had done to her?

Padmé curled herself tighter into a ball, twisting the blankets amongst her limbs - it didn't matter any more. He was dead, he was gone, and she was now subject to everything she could have avoided if she had just listened to his advice, if she had just left him to face both the Sith Master and his conscience alone…

By now, all her old hopes and been quashed. Yes, she was with Anakin again, but he wasn't her saviour - he was destroying her. And now she almost felt as if she had nothing left to live for. She had been broken by the inhumanity of the man she had once loved. His moods were always swinging and he was unpredictable - in the same breath, he could be both kind and cruel, both loving and hateful - and if, for instance, she did not say the right thing, if she mocked something or someone she shouldn't, then she would feel his wrath. This was suppression in its worst guise - she could hardly trust herself to say anything lest she wanted to injure herself. And _then_ Anakin wondered why she wasn't in good humour, so injured her anyway, blaming Count Dooku for the changes in her, and blaming her for letting him implement those changes!

What was she supposed to do? Who was this monster who had once been Anakin? What had gone wrong in that mind of his? After their shocking reunion, he had acted as though nothing were amiss and that all were completely normal - as if, because he now was some 'super' Sith Lord, everything could be perfect just because he wanted to believe that it was. And one of the most terrifying facets of this new Anakin's character was that, unlike Serenn, who had tried to cover up for his iniquities, Ani' actually thrived in acknowledging them! He just wasn't ashamed. And what could Padmé do but go along with it all? She was absolutely petrified, but was powerless, and the only words that kept ricocheting around her mind were Serenn's _'When you do know, one day when you do, you will understand why I kept you in ignorance. I am trying to save you…' _And he had actually been telling the truth. He had wanted to save her.

A lonesome tear ran down Padmé's cheek, which she quickly wiped away. She then discreetly let her hand wonder beneath her pillow, and, from there, she pulled out Dooku's old lightsabre. She had somehow managed to keep possession of it, but she had to be on her toes about it, and was forced to constantly find it new hiding places so that there was little chance of Anakin discovering it again. For some reason, she felt somewhat safer with it stored close to her at all times. It was quite beyond her as to why Palpatine had even let her have it - couldn't she now use it against someone?

Well, maybe not - last time she had tried using a lightsabre, she had come out of it much worse than her opponent. But, even so, couldn't she still use it against _herself_? Couldn't she end it, right here and now?

She wiped another tear from her face and clasped the 'sabre hilt as close as she could. No, Palpatine knew her too well - he knew, as well as she did, that she would never do that; she was no coward and would never take that way out, no matter how bad things got.

And things were looking pretty grim. It would seem that Anakin had plans he wanted to implement as soon as possible. He talked almost ceaselessly to 'his Angel' of their future, which included, above everything else, their marriage.

_Marriage - that word scared Padmé. The thought of being bound to what she could only see as the possessed shell of Anakin was terrifying. He would only have more reason to dominate and subdue her then, all of which he did now with the presumption that it was good for her, and that it would make her return to her cheery and strong self in the end. _

Why, after everything that had happened, could he not accept that she could never go back…? But he wouldn't listen to her - he was deaf to all but his Emperor, and if she continued to 'act' as she did now, as depressed and distant, then he would take out his frustration on her until she became what his dreams thought she ought to be. He was living a lie - he could never have that. She was changed forever.

It seemed so tragic that Anakin had become the very monster he had set out to destroy, and Padmé feared him more than she had ever feared Serenn - and he had been quite a fiend in his time. Perhaps the reason was that she could remember Anakin as a little boy and a fine Padawan, always eager to please and ready for a challenge; yet now, where was he? What had made him become so dark and severe? What had made him believe that he could have anything that he wanted, and that he could get it however he pleased?

Well, it was clear that the Emperor had his hand in it, yet this couldn't all be attributed to him alone - Anakin's weaknesses had been preyed upon by many, but perhaps by none so much as Serenn.

Padmé's hands gripped the metal lightsabre more tightly and she closed her eyes - so she was going to blame everything on Dooku now, was she? Well he deserved most of the blame, and she had more than ample reason to hate him, yet she couldn't bring herself to feel it, at least not as passionately as she should. She only hated that he'd thrown himself off that building and left her at Darth Vader's mercy.

Lights from passing taxis and ships flickered over the walls, intruding upon Padmé's thoughts and distracting her. They danced and flickered across the dark surfaces as if they hadn't a care in the world. Force, how Padmé wished she were in that position. She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could and walked silently over the soft, red carpets of Vader's apartments toward the windows. As she neared them, she placed her fingers in-between the blinds and pried them a little apart so that she could look out over the city beyond. The skylanes were as clogged as ever, full of traffic, though it was beyond her as to what these people must be up to at this hour, even on the capital.

Coruscant didn't actually look that different to how it had looked a few weeks ago, and yet things had changed so much. The Imperial Doctrine of the Supreme Chancellor had been forced through the senate and the Jedi were now the persecuted minority of society, chased out, attacked and frowned upon. Many had fled, but a few had been caught by the masses, and now faced a similar fate to the remaining Separatists, who were still every day being brought to the capital as doomed prisoners of war. The final space battle above Coruscant had been a tremendous victory for the Republic, all happening whilst Tyranus and Sidious fought below, and whilst the Jedi Temple was devastated by the frenzied General Grievous. The majority of the upper echelons of the old Republic were all but infatuated by the sudden turn of events, and highly supportive of their almighty Emperor - that was no surprise seeing as most of the changes benefited them. Palpatine was firmly in office and nothing looked set to remove him now - the sheer blind ignorance of the masses had been his greatest ally. The people might think that they would be able to control this Emperor that they had elected, but they would not, and one day they would look back and pity their foolish selves for ever trusting him.

Padmé dropped the blinds with a sigh and looked down at Serenn's lightsabre again. Blood still lined the grooves of the hilt, and long scratches were etched permanently into its once shiny silver plating. She ran a finger up one side then down the other, following its fine curve and studying its intricate handiwork. Palpatine had been right - it had a glorious nostalgia about it, this weapon of Dooku's making. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship. And yet, it was so much more.

What was it that they said about a Jedi's lightsabre? That this weapon was their life?

'_I think he would have wanted you to have this.'_

Hypothetically, Dooku's life was now in her hands. She had rather thought that it had been the other way round…

* * *

There were, of course, those out there who refused to stand for the new constitution, this 'Empire'. The problem these dissenters had was getting all their fellow likeminded people together without causing a stir - and then, once this was accomplished, there was the further dilemma of forming an effective plan of attack against the Emperor.

The man at the helm of this revolt was none other than Bail Organa. He had been wary of the awesome powers Palpatine held for a long time, but never had he imagined that the man would be able to sway his audience in such a way to be granted the title of Emperor, and all the dictatorial powers that that entailed. It was an unfortunate fact that a disillusioned galaxy was likely to go for the most extreme resolutions to their plights, ones that would ultimately land them in extreme misery. Not that their short-sightedness would currently allow them to see that.

With the senate currently dissolved, Bail had returned to his home planet of Alderaan, and here he had taken it upon himself to kick-start his campaign against Palpatine and his ludicrous Empire. This wasn't going to be an easy task, though. Fortunately, he knew of enough people, in which his sentiments were shared, to make a start on a group that would one day lobby against the Emperor - the difficult part was getting all these people together to discuss matters and to decide upon an appropriate, and safe, future plan of action.

So Bail had worked carefully to contact all these people, doing all in his power to keep the attention of the Emperor's efficient spy network away from him, and had eventually managed to smuggle a small assembly to his home on Alderaan, where they could safely discuss what should now be done. The group was made up of some controversial individuals, including the wanted Jedi Masters Yoda and Kenobi, two men the Empire was longing to get its hands on. Bail called their first meeting at the dead of night in the lower levels of his great mansion; hopefully, with all their minds combined, they could form some sort of idea between them as to how they should go about fighting the enemy.

The assembly all-in-all consisted of little more than thirty people. There were of course the two Jedi, as well as a few senators, but making up the bulk of the group was a team of liberal-thinking fighter pilots, all from former planetary defence units. These kind of men were very useful to have around - someone had to do all the fighting, afterall.

This group in itself was obviously not large enough, not when one considered the sheer size of the former Republic and all the constituencies that were now under Palpatine's thumb, but it was something. It was a start.

"What shall we call ourselves, do you think?" Bail asked to start off the conversation, smirking dourly as he looked between each face. "'Underground resistance' doesn't really have a good ring to it, does it?"

There were a few smiles around, but many had lost their ability to see light in any situation - so many millions had died in the crazy conflicts that had been the Clone Wars that there just didn't seem to be anything worth smiling about any more. Obi-Wan couldn't even find the trace of a smile left within him, he was so disillusioned and miserable; losing his master ten years back had been a big enough blow, but to lose so many of his allies, comrades and friends on top of that, and all in such a short space of time, had almost driven him to madness. General Grievous, one of the Republic's greatest enemies, had at least been brought down, and Count Dooku would seem to have been felled, but that mattered little; the separatists were no longer the enemy. The enemy had been on their side all along…

"I'm sure the Republic… or rather Empire will make a name for us," Senator Mothma of Chandrilla eventually said, leading into another silence.

A fighter pilot murmured something coarse he was sure the Empire would call them, but he was soon hushed. It just wasn't appropriate right now.

"What are we going to do?" Bail groaned, pacing about the room, "As a group, here and now, we're far outnumbered. There are more like us, others who oppose this new system, and who would help us if we could only get to them before the Empire does. But it's been hard enough for me to get you all here now, and those who are less discreet and less fortunate than us are every day being shown the 'mercy' of our Emperor for their disobedience… That being death." He stood akimbo and stared to the ceiling, "I mean, if even a _whiff _of this meeting is caught by Palpatine's blessèd militia, we'll all be in trouble."

"I think we need to ask ourselves, first and foremost, and before we drag other people into this, what it is we're trying to accomplish," Obi-Wan said.

Bail rubbed his chin and walked about the small, dark chamber. "We're trying to overthrow the Emperor, plain and simple," he replied, "We just need to get word out and bring people into the cause. We need funding, we need supplies. We need help."

"And then what? What are we actually going to do?" Kenobi pushed on, "Palpatine's eyes and ears are everywhere! We've been completely outfoxed."

"Long have the Sith's roots in the senate been planted," Yoda intoned gently, "But the answer giving up is not. Defeated the Sith Master must be."

There was a brief pause until Obi-Wan asked, his voice breaking, "How?"

A palpably uneasy tension consequently rose in the room, causing everyone to exchange uncertain glances. It was as though Obi-Wan had uttered a taboo phrase and no one could quite come to terms with it. He had uttered, in a way, their worst fears - the fact that there might be no way to win back what they had lost.

Yoda, however, remained focused and replied plainly. "Know not, do I."

It was an honest answer, but it didn't help things, and it was all Obi-Wan needed to hear. He was still rather too grief-stricken to be able to deal with all this right now so, shaking his head, he simply decided to quit the meeting and thus marched out of the room; as far as he was concerned, if Master Yoda hadn't a clue how to battle the Sith Lords, then who would? They were defeated and there was nothing they could do about. Their remained but one choice left to make, and that was whether to be eliminated or to evolve, just as General Grievous had told him.

Bail watched Obi-Wan leave with a sigh and flopped back into a seat. Things did indeed look bleak, but if he didn't take a stand, if he didn't do all in his power to orchestrate a revolution, then who would?

"We must be careful," Mon Mothma now said in her gentle, soothing voice, "I suggest we lie low and do not make our feelings public. I think I am right in saying that, although things look dire, my fellow senators and I need to keep our places in the senate. Our influence there is little, but it is important."

"Right, Senator Mothma is," Yoda concurred, "Careful we must all be, for battle an intelligent foe we do."

"What about the Jedi?" Bail asked, "Are there any more we can get in touch with and pick up? We need their help."

Yoda's eyes fell sombre and he pursed his lips. "Wiped out have most of the Jedi been, and those that remain, hunted by the Emperor's apprentice they are." He bowed his head for a moment's silence, then, just before Bail opened his mouth to speak again, he added, "But one left there might be. One yet is there that I can feel."

Bail's brow furrowed and he exchanged a glance with Mothma and some of the pilots; everyone seemed clueless, so, leaning toward Yoda, he asked, "And who is that? Do you know?"

"Some volunteers I need," Yoda said, which was no answer, "Back to Coruscant I must go."

Bail shook his head. "No, Master Yoda, it's far too dangerous! Your life isn't worth sacrificing for the sake of one more Jedi - we can't afford to lose you."

"Need this Jedi, we do," Yoda insisted, and he looked at some of the pilots asking again, "Volunteers I need!" Some of them stepped forward, more than ready to do something - anything - that would help throw a wrench into the cogs of the Imperial machine. Yoda looked between their bright and eager faces and nodded, before he turned and left the assembly without another word, accompanied by his new, and rather befuddled, assistants.

Now only Bail, Mothma and a few others were left. They regarded one another uneasily, and no one said anything until Bail sighed, "Well, it's a start…" He got to his feet and scratched the back of his neck. "I just hope that Master Yoda knows what he's doing."

* * *

The sun was at its peak over the capital of Coruscant, but Padmé hardly noticed it. At the moment, she was just sat at her dressing table and staring at her pallid reflection in the mirror, mulling over her many troubles. She had grown quite pale and uneasy in recent days, and felt extremely numb inside, at a complete loss as to how to stand up for herself any longer. There was no one to help her now; she was alone, and she could do nothing.

There was then a sound from behind her and she could see Vader coming through the door in the mirror, before he marched over the carpet to her with a great smile plastered on his face. Suddenly, he was at her back and, snaking his arms around, he leant over and kissed her on the forehead. Padmé met his eyes in the mirror and they looked at one another until he asked, "Have you seen the veranda?"

He laughed gently as he then straightened himself up and wiped his long, shaggy hair out of his eyes; "Come on, take a look," he insisted, taking her by the hand and pulling her away from her dresser to the nearest window. She reluctantly followed, but her gut feeling was that her curiosity much better left unsatisfied. There was no telling him that, though.

"Look," Vader went on, drawing up the blinds and pointing out to the plateau before the senate.

Padmé swallowed quietly and peered out of the window. She still remembered the time when there had been strange, humanoid statues stretching all the way up to the senate not long ago, but now they had been replaced by a simple row of spear-like poles, and --

"Oh, Force," she choked, putting her hand to her mouth and turning away. She had to fight the urge to throw up - there were traitor's heads skewered upon those poles, leading all the way up to the senate doors.

Vader laughed. "This will teach them," he said, giving her shoulder a rub as he went past, "Come on - we've just got a huge shipload of prisoners in today from the Outer Rim. Come and see them! There's one I'm _sure _you'll be happy to visit."

Padmé looked at him as though he was out of his mind, but quickly masked the expression and allowed herself to be towed along again, this time out of the apartment and into the bowels of the senate, to where many of the prisoners were kept before their executions. Trials were hardly heard of any more.

Vader led her down the permacrete stairs into the detention centre, where there was no natural light, and all was lit by the gloomy glow of a few lamps on the ceiling. The cells were arranged in rows, one corridor after another, and each looking identical to the next. It was like a monotone maze down here, and it would have been quite a nightmare for Padmé - or for anyone, for that matter - to be left down there alone.

Anakin now urged her to walk in front as he pushed her along by each of these terrible corridors, until he turned a corner and led her down one of them, past cell door after cell door, until he stopped about halfway down and flashed her a cocky grin.

"Hey 'Viceroy'!" he then called, "I have a visitor for you." He then patted her shoulder and said to her, "Have fun. I'll be back in a minute."

He then turned and left to go about his own business, leaving Padmé stood alone in the gloom before this one prison cell.

Padmé swallowed and watched as, from the darkness within, a pair of bulbous red eyes manifested themselves before her, encased in a familiar, scaly grey visage, which was carved with more than enough lines of worry and fear. "Gunray," she whispered.

"Oh, Padmé Amidala, you are alive!" the Viceroy said in his accented tones, dropping to his knees there and then, "You have to help me, you have to get me out of here! Have you seen what they are doing to us separatists? We get no trial, no clemency, no nothing… they are just chopping off our heads and pulling out our guts, and…" His voice faded into whimpers and he just cried, his head collapsing into his hands. "Oh, it is terrible!"

Padmé bit her lip and turned away, feeling herself well up with tears in turn; they were not for him, not by far, it was just that things kept hitting her from out of the blue, and the sheer horror of the galactic situation had suddenly taken her emotions by the neck and squeezed hard.

"Senator, please!" Gunray went on, "You must know that Grievous is dead!"

She nodded. "Of course I know!" she snapped, glaring at the Neimoidian, "Have you heard about what he did? The monster…"

"That was not my doing! Senator, have mercy!"

She shook her head. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't let you out of there. It's not in my power."

Nute blinked once and the sweat could be seen gaining momentum in its journey down his large forehead. "Well, you must know where Count Dooku is - you disappeared together, did you not? He must be able to do--"

She shook her head sharply at him and stared at her feet. "He's dead, Gunray," she whispered. She eventually met his gaze again and repeated, more emotively, "He's dead! There's nothing left for you. I can't help you, and I don't want to!"

Nute blubbered into his hands. "But to die like this!" he cried, "Senator, please, speak to this Emperor! Do something!"

"I can't help you," she said once more before she turned and walked away, wiping her eyes as she paced back down the gloomy, miserable corridor, forcing herself not to look into any more of the cells, fearful of who she might meet next. Despite everything Gunray had put her through, even wanting her dead, she now almost pitied him, because no one deserved to face a death as terrible as the ones he and his fellow 'traitors' now would. And the irony of it all was that she should be amongst them, having been on the Confederacy's side for so long now…

But, no, because Vader wanted her, she would be spared.

Anakin soon caught up with her again as she stood alone, face in her hands, at the corridor end. He was oblivious to her true emotions, however - or just chose to ignore them for his own convenience; "I bet you're happy to see him locked up," he said, hooking his arm round hers and leading her back toward the upper stories of the senate building.

She offered him a weak smile, but didn't say anything.

"I can't wait to watch his head come off," the Sith apprentice went on, "It's about time that it did." He hugged Padmé close and kissed her upon the forehead again. "I know it's a cliché, but victory _is_ sweet, isn't it?"

'Yes,' Padmé thought, 'Bittersweet'.

* * *

With the meeting adjourned, Bail had left the lower reaches of his manor and made for the upper floors. As he came back onto the ground level, he made his way along several corridors until he came to the doors that led out onto the grounds, and walked straight through them. Out on the terrace beyond, where he had expected to find him, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Jedi was stood with his arms folded, facing into the breeze, and his pale blue eyes seemed to be tracing the swaying motion of the rushes of grass, all across the fields, something which was at the same time both harmonious and chaotic, representative of his state of mind.

Making sure the doors were closed behind him, Bail gathered his own robes about himself, braving the cool wind, and made his way over toward Obi-Wan. After standing for a moment in silence by his side and getting no response, Bail eventually asked, "Are you okay?"

Obi's eyes continued to scour the scenery around him, moving from the grasses to the hills in the distance, his eyes unfocused and weary. "I don't know," he whispered, "I just don't know where to start, or to finish…" He scuffed his boot against the flagstones below. "Things are so messed up. And it's all our fault."

Bail shook his head. "It's not the Jedis' fault," he insisted, "No one could have stopped that man."

"And Anakin?" Obi asked, turning to Bail, "Do you think that no one could have stopped him?"

Bail sighed and gave Obi-Wan a soft look. Yoda had made it quite clear to Bail of what Anakin had become - the boy was without a doubt the mysterious servant, now doing the Emperor's bidding - and if one looked back, in retrospect, at everything that had happened to Anakin before his disappearance, one could see the finely woven web Palpatine and made about him, waiting for the right moment to strike and claim the boy for himself.

"Oh, come on, Obi-Wan," Bail sighed at last, "That boy just went off the rails of his own accord. It was his choice. No one made it for him."

"You're wrong," Obi replied, "I helped him make that choice, me and my lack of judgement. And Palpatine had his finger in it, of course…"

"You can't --"

"Blame myself?" Kenobi snarled. He turned on Bail in a flash, his jaw set hard and his blue eyes intense. "I damn well can, Bail. And I do."

Bail stared out his comrade. He liked Obi-Wan, and he felt sorry for him, for the weight of the universe often seemed to fall on his shoulders, yet his obstinacy piqued him at times like this, when it was the last thing they needed.

Obi eventually looked away and returned his gaze to the blithe, swaying grasses. "So did you come to any decisions?" he asked.

"I didn't," he replied, "But Master Yoda suddenly did. I believe he's just left."

Kenobi blinked and turned again to Bail in horror. "He's left?" he asked, "What the blazes for? And where the blazes for, for that matter?"

Organa shrugged. "He says there is a Jedi on Coruscant yet who might be able to help us."

Obi-Wan blinked and looked away, trying to think about what this could mean. "A Jedi?" he murmured as much to himself as to anyone. "But who?"

Bail turned to go back into his manor. "I wish I knew, General Kenobi. Then I might tell you."

* * *

Back on Coruscant, Lord Vader had been summoned to see the Emperor. Residing in the senate was only a temporary set-up for the Sith Lords, and plans were already in motion for a great Imperial Palace to be erected not far away. The Emperor's 'throne room' was, therefore, simply the same room that had been the Supreme Chancellor's office not long ago, and it suited fine for the time being. Little had changed in here, except the fact that the window had been replaced.

Lord Vader bowed at his mentor's feet, and awaited his commands.

"General Grievous did us a great favour," the Emperor began, tapping his fingers on the arms of his seat, "Yes. I never planned for him to do what he did - I very much doubt that even Count Dooku thought his droid general would aim to kill so many Jedi in one go - but it saved us a job."

"Yes, my master," Vader nodded. For the moment, his face was uncovered and his identity clear for Palpatine to see. He could safely reveal himself whilst he resided in his master's lair; it was too early to do so in public yet. People would still remember who he was, and what he had been.

Palpatine's fingers stopped their tapping and his eyes met Vader's; "Yes, Grievous did us a favour," he said again, "but our work is not yet done."

"Of course," Vader agreed, "There are many Jedi left. Including General Kenobi."

The Sith Master couldn't help but let a smooth smile rise upon his visage; "But of course. You have scores to settle with him, don't you?"

"Is it not right, my lord?"

"Oh, it is perfectly justifiable, I must concur. Just don't let your personal grudges cloud our overall objective. There is still much to do before we can relax our guard."

Vader nodded again; "Of course, my master."

"Go then, Lord Vader. Bring down as many of the remaining Jedi as you can. I can still feel them like speckles of grime on a windowpane." Palpatine stretched out his hand and, after a moment of flexing his fingers, he tightened them into a fist. "They must be wiped out," he growled.

Lord Vader nodded his head and rose to his feet. "They shall not be hard to trace," he said as he turned to leave, "I shall not fail you, my master."

"No," Sidious murmured as he watched his protégé go, "See that you don't."

**TBC…**


	45. Rekindled Hopes

**Author's Notes:** We're on bloody chapter **45**! 45 God-damn chapters, and I'm not finished! Sheesh. We're sort of on the up, now, if there is such a thing in this story. I actually wanted to write more of the Vader bit of this fic, but I really can't think of ought more to write, and I do need to get this finished! I think the story's more about Padmé than about Vader, anyway, so it makes sense. I'll leave the rest to your imaginations.

This might be the longest chapter I have ever written, too, at about 10,000 bloody words, and I quite like it, so I hope you do, too. And it's too long for me to keep re-reading, so if there are mistakes, then they're gonna be staying for a while. ;) Heh.

**Kynstar:** You don't agree with one scene? Is that a scene in the movie or just in the book, or don't you know yet? You _will _tell me about it once I've seen RotS, won't you? I'm curious now! If it's in the film, I might disagree with it too - who knows? - but, still, it ain't my story to tell. I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one who's taking tissues with me to see the film, though! Comrades in arms are the Dook'-fan lobby! Heh.

**REV042175:** I like getting inside people's minds, and I thought we ought to take a trip into Padmé's just to get to the heart of the matter. And she is finding answers, slowly but surely.

**HRHPadmeAmidala: **It is a bit like a soap opera, isn't it? I don't even watch soaps in RL. Perhaps this is making up for it?

**Padawanmage:** You know I'm not gonna answer your questions. ;) You'll just have to keep reading.

**Silverwolf47: **I'd say another 5 chapters, maybe, but don't take that as a definite because I'm not sure how it'll all play out. It could go on for another 10 depending on how I write things, and what I include or delete.

**

* * *

****Part 45 - Rekindled Hopes**

Padmé had little freedom in the apartments of the senate, a place that she had to call home whilst the Emperor and his protégé waited for a more suitable and luxurious palace to be built for their uses elsewhere. This didn't mean that the senate no longer existed - Padmé knew that Palpatine wasn't stupid; he couldn't make too many radical moves in one go - things just wouldn't last if he did. The senate was still in existence, albeit disbanded right now, but, even still, its powers were mightily reduced. The senate was (and would remain until the Emperor had the power to do away with it) nothing but a nod to the old ways of democracy, just a structure of pretence representing a system that no longer existed or functioned; the senators were the yes men of the Emperor, and those who couldn't be brought to say yes would never say anything else ever again once Palpatine's right hand, Lord Vader, was through with them.

Lord Vader wasn't home. He hadn't been for many weeks now. Though the Jedi Temple stood empty, a monument to the great slaughter of General Grievous, and a bitter memory of the days of old, there were still Jedi yet alive. The Emperor knew this. He was a man of unspeakable powers and he didn't need any proof other than the mar that living Jedi left on his senses, like blips on a radar, to know that there were still some of them out there. With Grievous, the great Jedi-killer, dead, there was only one man left who could fulfil the Sith Master's desires of having the Jedi Knights, his bitterest of enemies, eliminated - and that man was Darth Vader. Anakin. The Chosen One.

And so Padmé saw very little of the man who looked set to be her future husband. This was both a relief and a punishment. She was relieved because the man twisted by the dark side wasn't here to leave his savage marks on her, yet, at the same time, she was left without company or without purpose. The Republic she had campaigned and worked for had been taken away from her, and she had no place in this new Empire. Without Anakin here, she had no one to talk to, no one to interact with, nothing. The royal guards didn't speak to her and the droids that serviced this great place seemed to have no business talking to her, either. She felt that she was slowly going to go insane, having nothing with which to work her mind except her terrible thoughts and fears. And they were of little comfort or satisfaction.

Padmé couldn't deny that her quality of life had improved - she had a whole new wardrobe, the best food, a bathroom free to use at any time, but… it made no difference. She was still numb and unhappy, and she was definitely not with the man she loved. Darth Vader was not Anakin Skywalker, no matter what he said to her or tried to convince her; he was merely a shade of the man she had once loved, the remnant of the man she had once loved. He was different and she couldn't love him as she had loved Anakin…

It was all so difficult and so heartbreaking. And there was nothing she could do about it.

_/"Padmé, things have been happening in this galaxy for a long time that you are unaware of, and that you possibly don't even comprehend. I am not the man to explain them to you, nor do I have any wish to. All I ask of you is to understand that I am very, very sorry. It does not compensate for anything, but it is all I can offer you right now."/_

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, wiping the tear from her eyes, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

The sky was overcast this day on the capital. Padmé was stood in one of the hallways of what she could call nothing but her prison, and there she stood, for hours on end, simply staring out of a window, trying to collect her thoughts and find that thread of hope she had long ago dropped. Life with Darth Vader had started off badly and things didn't look set to get any better any time soon, but one would be hard pushed to believe that things could get any worse. Unfortunately, it had become apparent to Padmé in recent days that they just might. Her body was telling her things that she didn't want to know, and as soon as Lord Vader came home, she wasn't sure how long she could keep this secret from him. She was just afraid, so very afraid.

* * *

The Imperial mutineers were still present at Bail's manor, waiting patiently for Yoda's return. The days had gone by, and then the weeks, but still no one had heard from the Jedi Master. That was all until one day when Obi-Wan, who had been practising some simple lightsabre techniques in his bedchamber, was disturbed by a sudden commotion in the outer corridor. 

The Jedi lowered his weapon and flicked off the switch. There were raised voices outside, coming closer, and he couldn't help but listen in. Both parties were clearly being obstinate and reluctant to yield to the other, and he could tell straight away that it was Bail and Yoda whom he was listening to.

Hooking his 'sabre back to his belt, Obi-Wan thus made for the door; he had never been a particularly nosey Padawan when young, but Master Jinn had always commented that he had seemed to like listening in to far too many conversations that weren't his concern. He was only human, anyway - it was natural to be curious - and considering that, right now, everyone currently gathered under this roof was meant to be keeping a low profile, Kenobi felt that he had a right to know why two of this revolution's figureheads were now causing such a disturbance. He accordingly settled on his knees by the door and leaned against it in an attempt to catch a snippet, or more, of the conversation beyond.

"Master Yoda, I understand your concerns, but I cannot allow myself to do this!"

That was Bail's voice, and he clearly wasn't pleased about something… Trust Master Yoda to come back and bring a mountain of problems with him.

"So give me help, you will not?" Yoda now said, his voice as calm as ever, but with that edge of authority to it, the authority of the greatest Jedi in the Order.

"I can't, Master Yoda," Organa replied with exasperation.

The voices were getting nearer now, so Obi-Wan gathered that they were heading this way down the corridor, going passed all the dorms where the 'rebels' were temporarily being housed. 'How very tactful of them,' Obi thought, sure that he couldn't possibly be the only person in this hallway listening in at their theoretical keyholes.

"Only one medic-droid do I need," Yoda said, "All I ask, that is."

"_Not_ for him. _Not_ under my roof. I cannot condone it."

"Then a death under your roof, you shall have!"

Obi unintentionally leant in closer to the door; death? Who were they talking about? Was this Jedi whom Yoda had found very ill? It would be of little surprise if he was, with the jihad of the Jedi now happening at the Emperor's behest. Any Jedi Knights still around were just lucky to be alive - still being in one piece would just be an added bonus.

Bail seemed to be struggling to make plain to Master Yoda that he was adamant about his decision. "But Master Yoda, after everything…? After_ everything_?"

"A time for grudges, this is not. A time for action it is. Difficult I know this will be for all involved - difficult it has been for me too - but aside our feelings we must put. Priority do our needs take now." - Obi imagined that Yoda was now giving Bail his wise and all-knowing look - "Old I may be, but not yet stupid, am I. Not yet crazy. Know what I'm doing, I do."

There was a long silence, and Obi-Wan was sure he could just hear the edges of Bail's distraught, almost angry, breaths as they tumbled, one after another, from his lips. Organa then finally emitted one great sigh and said, "Okay," in a terribly tense voice. "I shall trust your judgement, Master Yoda, but I do not for one minute agree with it. And as soon as he is fit, I want him out of my house."

"The right decision you have made, Senator Organa," Yoda said conclusively, "Most wise you have been."

Obi-Wan then heard Bail's footsteps recede down the corridor.

He frowned, sitting there for a moment and thinking on what he had heard - what had all that been about? He was so lost in his thoughts, though, that when his door swished open without warning, he fell with a thud backward into the hallway, landing right at Master Yoda's feet.

He looked up at Master Yoda and it dawned on him, a little too late, that he had been discovered. He sighed and offered the Jedi Master his first true smile in a long time; "Sorry," he murmured.

"Hmph," Yoda grunted, shaking his head and trying not to smirk as he looked down upon the eavesdropping Jedi, "Old habits die hard, yes, Master Kenobi?"

Obi sighed and climbed back onto his feet. "They do, Master Yoda," he said, "I just couldn't help myself."

"Gathered that much, I have," Yoda replied, prodding Obi-Wan's shin with his cane. He then, after a moment's thought, gestured for Kenobi to follow him. "With me, you shall come, Master Kenobi," he said, "Satisfy your curiosity I shall, if trust in my decisions you do."

For some reason, Obi now felt a little afraid and his brow furrowed; what was the source of Bail's anxiety? It wasn't like him to be unreasonable, but something and really ruffled his feathers. And yet Obi-Wan knew that Yoda would not be one to take any decisions lightly, and that, whatever had happened, it couldn't possibly be of any danger to him. Besides, he trusted Yoda with more than his life, and knew that, as long as Yoda was in control of things, he should have no doubts about the situation. "Lead the way, my Master," he therefore said, following Yoda back down the corridors from whence he had come.

* * *

Padmé felt suddenly sick - many more slow days had crawled by and, at long last, her dreadful wait was at an end. Darth Vader was back. His latest jaunt had ended in grim success, and he had come home to see her - and, of course, his master - before he went off on his next mission. As soon as he came back through those doors, though, she could see the realisation in his eyes almost straight away, the fact that, just as she had feared, he could sense there being something different about her, something abnormal, and she was unable to do anything to conceal it. He hardly said a word of greeting to her, therefore, before he burst into a round of questions and thus decided, almost instantaneously, that this required the attention of the Emperor, his idol and his God. It couldn't mean anything without Palpatine's seal of approval, of course. 

Padmé was sure that Palpatine was perhaps her least favourite person in the galaxy. He was rather frail and weak at a first glance, and his voice could be quite tender and comforting if one allowed themselves to be lulled by his soft tones, yet all of this made the contrast of the monster within quite horrific. She had never been a big fan of Palpatine, but she had at least had a certain degree of trust in what he had done as a Senator, and then as the Supreme Chancellor, a position she had practically offered him on a plate.

'_I pray you bring sanity and compassion back to the senate.'_

By the stars, had she said that? The words melted in her throat like poison now. How naïve she had been, how truly naïve.

Vader ushered her along the corridors like a young child, lugging her by the elbow and briskly pacing past royal guards and the odd clone trooper. The way he held her brought back a memory she had almost forgotten by now, of being dragged down murky tunnels from the Geonosian arena by a certain Count:

'_You don't have to pull so hard!' she had griped as he'd dragged her roughly down a dark stairway. She wouldn't dare say even that to Anakin now._

Dooku had then promptly stopped and pushed her on before him._ 'Take the lead, then!'_ he had snapped. She'd then stumbled on ahead and had begun to slowly step onwards; _'Where am I supposed to be going?'_ she had asked.

'_Forward,' he had told her._

It was almost funny, to think on it now. It hadn't been at the time, of course, but just the way he had said it, and the way she had bitten back at him constantly. The bastard.

Anakin continued to tow her along, now up a flight of stairs, dragging her up each step like a piece of excess baggage. She was hardly going forward any more, was she? She felt as though she were just going back, back, back, to a point of no return and of no salvation.

"Do as he says, Padmé," Anakin suddenly told her as they reached the top step and made for the lift to the throne room, "He won't like you to be disobedient."

Padmé felt like rolling her eyes - did he seriously think she'd dare be noncompliant with that man!

"I'm sure of my senses," Ani' went on, regardless, "Force, I hope I'm right - but he'll just verify things."

They stood side by side as they stepped into the lift together and Padmé took this opportunity to steal a quick look at Anakin, just to see his face. He looked very happy, but there was such a darkness in those eyes, a terrible glee that made her feel uneasy. Yes, he was delighted, but she could see that there were ulterior motives contained there within, his mind twisted by the dark side and already making sinister plans for a future that was, as yet, uncertain.

As the lift came to the top of the shaft, they walked out of it together and stopped at the door to the Emperor's chambers. Here Vader embraced her and kissed her on the forehead. "Here we go," he said, and he then waved his hand at the doors, watched them slide apart, and escorted her into that dreadful chamber beyond.

Palpatine sat there in his dark throne, almost as if he never moved from that spot. He looked over his apprentice and Padmé then smiled. "So," he said, getting to his feet and pacing down from his dais toward them both - or, more precisely, toward her - "It would seem that we may be in for a happy occasion." He stopped before her and offered her one of his terrible smirks. "Lord Vader seems quite excited."

Padmé couldn't understand how he knew already. Anakin hadn't had time to tell him, or to even say that he was coming, yet… Palpatine knew. He always knew. It was his duty to know.

The Emperor then stepped far too close to Padmé for her comfort, and she would have stepped back if some irrevocable force hadn't held her in place; "Now, let us see..." he mused.

Padmé swallowed nervously and closed her eyes as she felt the Emperor's hand reach out and press against her belly. She squirmed, her stomach somersaulting and her face contorting into a disgusted, fearful knot. The man put pressure here, then there, probing her with his many senses, his palm sliding beneath the layer of her clothing and making contact with her bare skin, checking for certainty.

Force, it was agony - his touch was just so, so cold and so painful… but, in contrast, the way he was actually touching her could only be described as gentle. It was an uneasy combination of sensations that made the bile rise to her throat, and she cried out in anguish. She thus felt Anakin's hands come beneath her shoulders to keep her steady and to, more importantly, keep her on her feet.

"There, there," Palpatine murmured in his most awfully soothing of voices, "There's no need for that…"

Yet she couldn't help but gasp again and again as those icicles launched through her veins and dug into her abdomen. She had to look down to see what he was doing, and wondered, when all she saw was his hand, as she expected, how it was that these dark side conjurers caused her so much pain.

"Hmm…" the Emperor soon mused, running his hand slowly up and down over the slight curve of her belly. "Well, well, well…" He laughed quietly and looked her straight in the eyes.

Padmé swallowed again, feeling his hand draw back from her abdomen and reach up to pat her softly on the cheek. Their eyes didn't break from one another's, and she felt as though, even as he looked at her, he was till probing her and searching her. At length, he finally murmured, "Congratulations would seem to be in order."

Padmé exhaled in some form of relief as the Sith Master finally turned and walked away, though this relief was mingled with terror, and she felt her body sag; she was half willing to collapse straight onto the floor, right now. She even might have if Vader hadn't kept a firm hold of her. The Emperor's words had hit her hard - her recent fears were now all but confirmed - but she didn't turn to look at Anakin's face, to see his reaction; she couldn't bear to see it.

"Well," the Sith Master went on again, rubbing his hands together and looking back at her, "Aren't you a lucky girl? What an honour this is for you. Lord Vader shall soon have a son to carry on in his footsteps." He smiled at her, far too nicely for her comfort. "Think of it, my dear. Just think of it."

Padmé couldn't share Palpatine's enthusiasm, and her thoughts of the future were far from elated - suddenly all she could imagine was her giving birth to a child which would then be torn straight from her arms and moulded into a monster, like the one his father had become.

Or worse, into a monster like the Sith Master. To think that he had been a child once…

Padmé continued to stare at Palpatine, that deceptive monolith of evil, and found herself pondering on this, wondering if he too had been torn from his mother's arms once born, and then been raised into this creature that now stood before her. It hardly bared thinking about…

She felt sorrow clog her throat and a cry escaped her lips as her heart sank in her breast - this was all so badly timed. But the Emperor did not care how she felt; she was the means by which he and his apprentice would gain a further successor; she was merely the woman who would carry and gave birth to a child they saw as but another pawn on their game board. This detachment terrified her so deeply that she could not express it in words, nor could she even articulate it with her very thoughts. She had never believed that Anakin would change so much and would allow himself to fall so terribly in the first place, but to now be faced with the prospect of this man not just perhaps being her husband, but being the father or her _child_…? It was horrific. Though, as a boy, Anakin had never had a father, there was no chance that he would now make up for that loss with his own son. Anakin had become the Emperor's willing student, and it was the Emperor's will that came before his own. Anakin's son would be treated as the Emperor saw fit, and there was no reason to believe that Ani' would object to that.

"We must take care of you, my dear," she heard Palpatine go on as he now lounged back in his throne, "You carry our future." He gave her one final, long look before he wafted a hand toward her and said, smirking, "You may go."

* * *

It was a surprisingly bright, sunny day over on Alderaan. The fields looked lush and green and the sky was a brilliant blue. It wasn't really appropriate, considering what was happening in the galaxy, but the weather would have its way. 

Bail's glorious mansion, built of beautiful white stone, with its curved walls and large, bright windows, looked almost angelic in the sunlight. It did not reflect the misgivings that Organa was having about Yoda's 'Jedi friend', or his concerns about what Yoda might spring on him in the future. It was only a matter of time, therefore, until, a week or so after his return, Yoda confronted Bail in the dining hall and revealed the next stage of his plan.

Bail had been in the middle of his meal when Yoda had begun talking. He still hadn't eaten anything more once Yoda had finished. All he could do was place his knife and fork down and gape at the small Jedi in disbelief. "I thought you were crazy going to Coruscant the first time," he said, as soon as he found his tongue again, "but you want to go _back_? _Again_?" He scoffed in further astonishment. "Whatever for, Master Yoda? Your luck won't last forever - you may not have been caught last time, but what makes you think you'll be so fortunate again?"

The Jedi Master sighed and gave Bail a long look. "Some things must be done," he said, "People are there to be saved, and others to be confronted. Only my old friend and I shall this time be going. No other lives shall we risk."

Bail clicked his tongue and rubbed his chin. "I hate to say it, Master Yoda, but what makes you think he won't turn on you?"

"Penitence is not lost to all, Senator Organa."

"Come on, Master Yoda! We're talking about --"

Yoda's spoon hit the table. "Enough. No changing my mind on this matter there is. Tomorrow we depart, and then, to a new location must the people of this 'revolution' relocate. Too long have we stayed here."

Bail pursed his lips, knowing his opinions would have no bearing on Yoda's decisions this time. "I wanted _him_ gone from my home, Master Jedi," he uttered quietly, "but I never meant for you all to go. You can stay as long as you see fit."

"Then seen fit I have. Too dangerous for us here, it is now. Too dangerous for you, too, senator." Yoda nodded to himself. "A new place, we have already found. In charge of the relocation Master Kenobi shall be. Arranged this already I have."

Bail allowed himself a sigh and nodded in silence.

Yoda now decided to leave and he picked up his cane and turned to depart.

"When are you leaving, then?" Bail asked, "Right now?"

"As soon as can be, senator," Yoda replied.

Bail's chair creaked back as he shot to his feet and watched the diminutive Jedi hobble away. "Try to be careful, Master Yoda."

"There is no 'try', senator. Just do, or do not."

Bail allowed himself a smile. "But of course," he nodded, "How could I forget?"

* * *

"We'll have to bring things forward," Anakin rambled on as he repacked his trunk for his impending next voyage, "We must be married before our boy is born." 

Padmé sat on the bed, watching him skitter here and there like a crazed mynock.

"Oh, I can't believe it!" he laughed, slamming the lid of his trunk shut as the last cloak went in. His bright eyes flashed onto her and he made his way over and gathered her up in his arms, hugging her tight. "Me and my Angel and my boy," he mused, "It's going to be so wonderful."

Padmé just froze up in his clutches; his grasp was so cold and his body pulsed as though filled with a terrible power. She could feel it flowing beneath his skin like a virus, a dark infection that filled one's heart and ate its way through one's body until there was nothing left uncontaminated. Her body repelled the very essence of it.

"What should we call him, do you think?" he then went on, wheeling away and looking at himself quickly in a mirror, "We could name him after the Master, but that might just be confusing."

'No, that would just be **wrong**' Padmé thought to herself, sickened by the very notion.

Anakin rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "Luke. I've always liked Luke." He looked at her. "What do you think?"

She smiled weakly. "What if it's a girl?"

He shook his head. "It's not - you heard the Emperor, he said 'son'. He knows, Padmé - he knows everything."

She sighed and looked down, fidgeting with her fingers, trying not to cry anymore, or to even think of crying. Her hands were soon taken away by Anakin, though, as he knelt before her, by the bed side, and looked at her dotingly; "I'm sorry that I have to go away again," he said, misconstruing her worry, "But I'll be back soon, for good. Then we can be wed, and start planning for our son." He smiled at her. "It'll all work out great."

Again, she tried the weak smile. He was so ecstatic that he hardly seemed to notice her unmistakable fear and distress.

"Take care of yourself now," he said, leaping to his feet and grabbing his trunk, "I'll be home again soon." He pecked her cheek as he walked past and then, was gone.

Padmé sat and watched the door for a long time. Night had again set in by the time she looked away, and she lowered herself back onto the bed, slowly and stiffly, trying to get her head round the past twenty-four hours. She was glad that she was to be alone again tonight - she needed the time and space to think.

As she lay there, she held her belly unconsciously, as though cradling the growing foetus within; she didn't want them, the two Sith Lords, to take her baby away. She was afraid for it, and felt guilty that she was to bring a child into the world who would suffer as his father had, a child who would become just another tool in the Emperor's arsenal. She couldn't let that happen…

She swallowed and leant over the side of the bed, searching beneath the mattress. Dooku's lightsabre was here today, safely hidden, and she pulled it free from its enclosure for the first in a long time. It had been remarkably safe there; with Anakin rarely being home, she had had no need to fear its discovery.

She lay back as she held it above her, looking at it through the gloom. It helped her meditate, to have this in her hands, to feel its cool metal in her grasp and its finely crafted edges beneath her palms. As she rolled the weapon between her fingers, she lapsed back into her thoughts and tried to find an answer to this mess.

It hurt her so deeply to think that now, finally, she was to have a child. She had always wanted children - she was sure she had told Anakin that before - but her mother and father weren't here to hear the news, nor was her sister there to give her the friendly sibling shove and say 'Finally!'. Yes, a child was what she wanted, but not here, and not now. It was all so wrong…

And that was when her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened in terror. A terrible notion had leapt forth into her mind like an unbidden demon: What if she _lost_ the baby?

She felt her tongue run over her dry lips as the idea leapt forth into her mind, and her hand grasped the lightsabre ever the more tightly as she tried to ground her wandering thoughts; would it be so wrong to purposefully lose this child if it saved the unborn baby from the ordeals he would otherwise face after his birth?

She hesitated - but even if she _did _lose her child, by whatever means that might be, what then would happen to her? Wouldn't Vader be angry? There was no doubt of it, and _she_ would be blamed; Anakin and his master would find out that it had been no accident. And then Lord Vader would only be able to get another child on her, and he and his Emperor would ensure that she carried it to term, and it would all happen all over again... There was no way out, for her or her unborn child.

She shook her head and clutched the lightsabre close, wiping the tears from her eyes. She couldn't do it, anyway - she could never consciously kill her own child. She would rather kill herself.

She felt suddenly guilty and unworthy to be a mother at all; how had she _dared_ to even consider it…?

She looked at the lightsabre again, and more ideas, even more grim, soon began to take form in her forlorn heart. Her eyes were transfixed by the weapon, and she suddenly asked herself whether this, this dead warrior's laser-sword, was the way out?

Were things now so bad that self-sacrifice was truly the only other way? Would she be driven to this, to taking her own life, to escape this misery? Her thumb rubbed the metal casing up and down and, tentatively, she pressed the projector plate of the weapon into her chest. She then just looked at it as she held it in place - how awful an end this would be, to run oneself through with a lightsabre.

Another tear rolled down her cheek as she hesitated. It made a slight chink as it hit the metal weapon below and ran down into one of its grooves, mixing with the dried blood there, his blood.

"Don't do it."

Padmé shrieked in surprise and looked over to the doorway. Someone had entered noiselessly and unannounced, and she now perceived there, before her eyes, one of the Emperor's royal guards. She breathed heavily, taking great gulps of air in each breath, and moved the lightsabre away from her body. There was something about this man's calmness that made her listen to him and, suddenly, as if by magic, she could clearly see the error and stupidity of her ways, as if she had been lifted from out of the fog and placed in the sunlight.

Padmé looked over the royal guard again - she would normally fear an encounter with one of these red devils, but something was not quite right about this one. She was quite unable to put her finger on what that was, though.

Slowly, the guard came over the carpet to her and placed his hand over hers, prying the weapon from her grasp. "A dangerous weapon, my lady," he said, voice fizzling through his intercom as he looked at the hilt in his hands, "What possessed you to even contemplate doing such a thing?"

Her breaths slowed to a gentle panting and she frowned at him - she had never heard one speak to her like this before. It was very strange. "What business of that is yours?" she whispered anyway.

"None at all," the guard replied, "And you wouldn't have done much harm anyway, not with the safety lock on."

She looked at the lightsabre and took it back from him. She then almost laughed - that stupid fact made the entire situation look ridiculous, and, if she hadn't had so much to be concerned about right now, she certainly would have laughed.

It was then, as she looked at the guard once more, that she realised what it was that really made him different to the rest; "You're a bit taller than the others, aren't you?" she asked, looking down at his robes, which hung a little above the carpet and revealed the tips of his boots.

The guard looked down, his posture speaking of a certain humiliation about this, but he didn't answer. He just held out his hand to her and said, "I'm sorry, I don't have time to talk. I've come to rescue you."

She was taken aback - what kind of coincidental joke was this? "You've what?" she spluttered.

He proffered the hand again. "Come along. I'm here to rescue you! I don't have much time."

"Who are you?" she asked, though she placed her hand in his anyway.

Again, he didn't answer - he just pulled her to her feet and quickly began to lead her away, out the room, down the ominous stairs of the senate, and through the dark, deserted corridors beyond. He looked around every corner they came to and made sure to keep to the shadows, continuously glancing back to make sure that they hadn't been followed.

"Where are we going?" Padmé asked at length, her hand still clamped firmly in his, whilst her other held on to the lightsabre.

"Shh…" he hushed her, pausing before he made a dash across a wide and very silent hallway. It was then that their luck ran out...

"Hey, you!" shouted a voice from the darkness.

Padmé's royal guard cussed and drew his electro pike from out of his robes, holding it out before him as three other royal guards came rushing over. "That must be him!" one of them said, "The one who got R-116-9!"

The guard trying to 'rescue' Padmé moved her behind him and held his pike across his chest, ready for the ambush. As soon as the first of the chargers came in too close, he thrust his pike at their torso, and this guard fell, writhing in agony, to the floor. Seeing this, the other two decided to hang back, but kept their own pikes extended at the ready, held out toward the impostor.

"Let me help!" Padmé said, fumbling again with the old lightsabre hilt.

The faux guard glanced at her. "Do you really think you can use that thing?"

She shook her head candidly, watching as the temporarily felled royal guard got back to his feet and began circling both her and her rescuer with the others; "No, not really," she sighed, deflated, "But it's all I've got."

The three true royal guards began to close in with their pikes fizzling hazardously. Things were about to get ugly, and the faux guard knew it; "I'm sorry," he said to Padmé, "but may I borrow that?"

Padmé blinked at him. "My lightsabre?"

"Yes. Now." His hand stretched out to her as the guards closed in.

She looked unsure, and, little by little, began to hold the weapon out toward him.

He dropped his pike and snatched it sharply. "Sorry," he said, "But it's an emergency."

She gave him a dark glare, but backed up now that she was all but defenceless, and watched this stranger to see what he would do.

* * *

Little did Padmé realise the sheer scope of the matter at hand. Not only was she being rescued daringly, but her rescue also served as a distraction. With the royal guards busy with their faux counterpart, they left their master, the almighty Emperor, unguarded. And this gave Master Yoda leave to enter the man's apartments with little or no hassle. Locks and security systems couldn't keep him out. 

This didn't all mean that he would find the Sith Master lying vulnerable in his bed at the end of it all, not by any means. In fact, as the small Jedi crept into Palpatine's apartments, the rooms looked relatively undisturbed, and he got all the way through his bed chamber without even the slightest sign of trouble. It was as if he had been expected…

As Yoda's green eyes searched the dark, silent bedroom of the Sith Master, the Force came to him and summoned his attention to the windows. Swinging his head about, he looked and saw there, silhouetted against the hazy light of the Coruscant night, the hooded apparition of Sidious himself.

Yoda drew himself up and placed his hand atop his 'sabre hilt, waiting for the coming storm.

"Master Yoda," Palpatine's voice drawled from the darkness therein, "It _has _been a long time. I was wondering when I would next have the pleasure of seeing you."

Yoda stood quite still in the room's centre, and pushed back the folds of his cloak, ready to grab his lightsabre. "Palpatine," he murmured.

"Yes, that was what you called me. What many called me, in fact." The man stepped away from the window, his hands clasped before him as though he was reasonably content with the situation. "You may still call me that, of course, if you so wish."

Yoda hadn't made a move - he just stood there _en garde _with a contrary no-nonsense manner about his small person. He was in no mood for Palpatine's habitual prattle.

"We're not in a good mood, are we, Master Jedi?" the man went on, beginning to circle Yoda, his chin and thin lips now visible beneath his Sithly shroud. "I am unhappy to find you in such bad humour. And what a host have I shown myself to be? Pray, tell me how I can be of assistance?" He stopped and his voice dropped to a more sinister tenor. "I don't believe you've just stopped by to say hello."

"An end to this there must be, Sith Master."

"Ah! He understands! He calls me Sith Master at last." He chuckled for a moment. "It took you all so long to work out the puzzle, I quite wondered if you'd ever get there!" He cackled again. "Well, the Force wasn't quite with you there, was it?"

Yoda just let the man laugh, his glare tightening further all the time. He gripped his lightsabre hilt and slowly brought it forth from his cloak, preparing to go one-on-one with his most deadly enemy.

"Ah," Palpatine nodded, his eyes catching the glint of Yoda's weapon, "I see. It's going to be like that." He opened his hand and his lightsabre hilt dropped smoothly into it from out of his sleeve, "Well, we could have been more civil about it. But I suppose we've been civil long enough."

Yoda's grip tightened on his weapon - he could hear Palpatine's courtesy gradually fracture with every word the man said; his tone was dropping, subtly yet noticeably, and it would soon reach a point where the man would become his true persona, and, like the nexu stalking its prey, would then lunge.

Whether it was wise to let a Sith Lord of this calibre have the first move was something Yoda doubted, so, with a flick of his finger, he ignited his blade and took the opportunity to pounce at the man first.

Sidious wheeled about, dodging the first assault, and cackling all the while. "My, my, we are quite a warrior, even after nine hundred years!" he goaded, swinging his wrist and bringing forth his red blade. "Come, Master Yoda. Teach me a lesson."

The dark chamber was filled by the glows of the red and green blades as the most proficient of the opposing Orders - that of Jedi and Sith - finally met in combat. Yoda was small and quick, but Palpatine had the most acute of senses and a superb combat ability, and was more than a match for Yoda. It was quite incredible - to think that every meeting the Jedi had had with the Chancellor of old, every time they were debating issues in his office, they had all been within arm's reach of their most hated enemy, and had known nothing. Yoda was too experienced a Jedi to allow himself to get angry about this, but it certainly put a sure-fire dent in his pride.

He leapt from the floor across the Emperor's bed, then, and, as the Sith Master followed, he bounded from a chest of drawers back to the floor, and swiftly across the room.

"So fast," Palpatine murmured, almost to himself, and, as he halted smoothly on the carpet, a short distance from Yoda, decided to change tact. "Let us try something a little different…"

Yoda watched as the Sith Lord rose his hand before him and, before he could even prepare to ground himself, he had been flung across the room and catapulted into the door! He hit it hard, then dropped to the floor, momentarily dazed.

Sidious slowly made his way across the carpet, lightsabre at the ready. "Surely that wasn't so easy?" he muttered, "Surely the great Master Yoda wasn't so easily overcome?"

Palpatine then thrust his hand up again and Yoda, thrown back against the wall, could do nothing as the Sith Master rose his hand and sent him sliding right up the surface until his head bounced against the ceiling, strung up by an invisible and overwhelming force.

Yoda's face contorted and he reached out for the Force, knowing that he had to get back on top in this fight. Closing his eyes, he gathered together his greatest of powers and steadily fought off those that came from the Emperor, until he landed gently back on the floor. Heaving a great sigh to recover from such effort, he then gave the Sith Master a glare and dared him to do better.

The frivolity of Palpatine's playful manner was gone. With a tight lip, the man now growled, "Then so be it," and, with a swing of his arm, one which sent his hood falling back from over his head, he conjured up a force great enough to sent Yoda physically through the door!

* * *

Padmé gaped in awe as she saw the mysterious royal guard pick up the lightsabre and use it with ease. He must be some sort of Jedi, she thought - there could be no other explanation! 

As soon as the lightsabre had touched the intruder's hand, the other royal guards had suddenly become more wary, and were now circling only as close to the intruder as they felt was safe.

The rescuer wasn't impressed by their caution and fear however and he started to goad them on, saying, "Come on, you cowards! Surely you're not afraid? What would your master think?"

His taunts got one of the guards going, at least, and this one came charging at the intruder with full gusto, swinging his pike about around him like a circus performer with his baton.

"Capital," the faux guard murmured before he stepped into the attack and lunged at the incoming enemy.

The other backed off a little, dodging the intruder's first assault, before he wheeled about into a spin with his pike thereafter, aiming to dispatch the rescuer with one, sharp blow. The intruder was too good a warrior for this, though, and with just another swerve of his lightsabre, he lopped the attacking guard's pike into two, before he then decapitated the guard in another single blow.

As the first guard's head rolled across the floor, still enclosed within its red helmet, the other two guards got suddenly angry. Though they said nothing, the way their sinister masks turned onto the rescuer was creepy. Their hands gripped their pikes tightly in unison and, as one, they began to march at the intruder, a pair of faceless and silent killers .

The lightsabre-wielding guard simply held his blade out to the side and gestured for them to come at him with a waggle of his fingers. "Come on," he said, "Impress me."

It would seem that the two remaining royal guards took their cocky opponent rather too seriously - they suddenly picked up pace and ran at him, full on, pikes swinging, and aimed to impress their enemy with the fullness of their hearts!

The intruder clasped his lightsabre firmly in his hand then rushed at them in turn, his feet dancing across the floor in a fluid, smooth motion. He then threw himself into the air and dived down upon one of the guards, aiming to cleave him into two right out from the start.

The royal guards were too quick, though, and parted as the intruder flew at them, with the guard who had been under attack thinking and acting quickly enough to turn the situation to his advantage. He simply rolled himself away, before coming back up onto his knees, and from there, he thrust his pike back across into the space where the intruder looked likely to land from his assault.

And where the intruder did, indeed, land. The lightsabre-wielder screamed as his feet hit the floor and he consequently became subject to the voltage of the electropike. His knees buckled and he fell, with a thud, to the floor. Grumbling to himself for his clumsiness, he then flipped back onto his feet with a tremendous momentum, and then just managed to evade the incoming pike of the second guard.

The two guards again swung away and prepared for round two.

* * *

Master Yoda called upon the powers of the Force to aid him, but they just weren't there, not like they used to be. Even a year ago, he could count upon more assistance from that great, mysterious energy field than what he got now. The balance of the Force had long been shifting, and in the coarse of this, his powers were forced to diminish, whilst Palpatine's, favoured by the Force's current dark tendencies, only flourished. 

Yoda picked himself up from the floor in the anteroom to Palpatine's chambers, and, finding his green lightsabre lain nearby, he drew it back to his hands and once again prepared himself for next the onslaught. The Sith Master, meanwhile, in true spectral style, simply glided across the threshold of the door into the anteroom, giving himself the appearance of a true creature of the netherworld. "Your powers are weakening, Jedi Master," he glowered, conjuring the Force to him, which, as it coiled about his person, sent great thunderous rumbles through the foundations of the building. Then, splaying out his fingers, he sent an invisible wave crashing toward Yoda!

But Yoda was determined not be sent flying for a third time. Folding his arms, the Jedi Master drew as much of the fraying, light fabric of the Force as he could to himself and caught Palpatine's gigantic ball of fury in his invisible net, holding his hands outward as he struggled to keep it in place. The power of the attack was so immense, though, that it pushed him back across the carpet, thundering against him like an unstoppable tidal wave. Yoda's tiny face screwed up in concentration, and his claws flailed at the carpet beneath his feet, trying their best to dig into the fabric and find there some firm grip. It didn't take Yoda long to realise that his Force-net could not contain this beast for long, so, with a deep-seated resolve and a tremendous cry, the Jedi Master simply threw all his strength behind the net and thrust the ball of energy back at Palpatine!

Sidious only laughed as it hurtled in his direction, and he merely wafted it away with a feeble wave of his hand, making not the slightest flinch when it consequently crashed into a wall and caused the plaster and permacrete to flake away. Yoda watched this with some dismay, knowing full well that that falling plaster and brick could have been his flesh and bones…

"So, we're not so lifeless after all," Sidious now growled, pacing a little in Yoda's direction, "It's been an admirable performance so far."

Yoda watched Palpatine wearily as the man rose his hands toward the ceiling. "Let's make things a little harder," he said.

Yoda watched him, unable to foresee or even guess what Sidious was to do next, so clouded had his senses become in this man's presence. The Sith Master was like the storm that caused radio waves and electricity lines to break down as he passed - his very essence interfered with the Force and sent it awry, and Yoda could do nothing to counteract the effect. It was then that he felt a tight grip take hold beneath his chin and he was, in tandem, sent flying back onto the ground.

Sidious watched as Yoda's little body slid back over the carpet, looking as if it were being pulled back by some cord strung round his waist. "It is really quite sad," the Sith Lord mused, "I truly thought you might have been a more equal opponent." He shrugged, continuing to send Yoda's body back, back, back until he let it loose, and watched him skid to a halt a little while later. "I may have been wrong, of course."

Yoda heaved himself to his feet once more, his skin burning from where it had rubbed against the carpet. "Far from over, the battle is," he assured Palpatine with a cold, slightly wry smile, before he then took up his blade again and torpedoed back into combat!

* * *

The 'sabre-wielding, fake guard stepped back, looking between the two guards that he faced, and sighed heavily, twisting his lightsabre round and round in his left hand. "I could cheat a little," he mumbled to the two guards. He then turned his head to the ceiling and, in turn, the two guards were tossed up into the air, screaming. The intruder then rapidly grabbed Padmé's hand and tugged her along behind him, before he then handed the two airborne guards back over to gravity. "Come on!" he urged her, and they ran. 

Padmé heard the dull _thud_ of the pair of royal guards hitting the floor as she and her liberator made their way into another corridor, and continued to sprint on. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Forwards," he said.

His words stunned her for a moment and she receded into a sudden silence as an uneasy sensation overcame her stomach.

"My mistake," the guard then said, grabbing her attention again and skidding to a sudden halt, causing Padmé to bounce against his back. "We're going left," he added, and they thus took a left turning.

All the corridors looked the same to her as they passed through, travelling under the lighting of dull lamp after dull lamp, and proceeding through grey door after grey door.

"What did you say your name was?" she decided to ask him at length, glancing back for a moment to check that they weren't still being followed.

"I don't believe I did say," he retorted, then said no more.

"It's polite to introduce oneself."

"I'm not always polite."

They came out into a large hanger, and from here, Padmé had a better idea of where they were heading.

"Move!" her rescuer said, hurrying her along as best as he could, and urging her toward a certain shuttle. "That one there," he pointed "get on board."

She was halfway across the room when she skidded to a halt and screamed. A troop of four more royal guards were suddenly in the space before her, seeming to have materialised from out of nowhere!

The rescuing guard cursed, having been covering Padmé's back, waiting for the Emperor's reinforcements to have come from that way - he hadn't quite been expecting to face an assault from behind. Resorting to do something rather than waste time dwelling on the matter, he turned about and rushed toward Padmé, then leapt in front of her and took up Dooku's lightsabre again. He then charged.

The four new guards rallied themselves and surrounded the intruder…

* * *

Green and red lightsabres were again crossing down the hallway from the Emperor's apartments as the fight moved on through room after room. Unfortunately, though he was putting up a tremendous fight, Yoda knew that he was not likely to be victorious. The sheer strength of the Sith Master exceeded his very worst fears, and he had never imagined it to be possible, that the man could have been so powerful yet have managed to remain concealed for so many years. 

Idle chatter had given way to ferocious combat on the scale that Yoda had never experienced before. At his mere will, with little effort or thought involved, the Emperor could send great chunks of brick and plaster flying from out of the walls, could collapse the ceiling and bring up the floorboards - anything he wished. And he did so. Frequently. The chambers they had since passed through were now only derelict ghosts of their former selves.

As bricks flew from the sides of the corridor, Yoda had to alternate between parrying Sidious's lightsabre to destroying the incoming missiles. Soon thereafter, the floor beneath Yoda's feet continued to give way, planks of wood and iron girders flying up from beneath him and forcing him to begin leaping all around again, an activity he could have done without right now. And then he still had Sidious's lightsabre to contend with at the end of it all.

Following this long bout of flying building materials and swinging lightsabres, Palpatine allowed a slight break to elapse in the battle. There was no reason to believe for one minute that Palpatine was being courteous, because he wasn't; Yoda could already feel a great swelling of the Force accumulating at the Sith Master's left hand. He couldn't stop the man from subsequently thrusting him down the corridor, like a rag doll, and hurling him into the next wall that happened to appear at his back.

With a nod to the ceiling, Palpatine next sent a large section of the roof down toward Yoda. Unable to stop it in time, the Jedi Master could do nothing but roll out of its path and try to regain some control over this one-sided battle. Breathing heavily, he watched Sidious for some signs, some hints toward his next attack; this was usually Yoda's most successful method of understanding and defeating his opponents, but Sidious, right now, was proving far too adept for even this, and it was too late by the time Yoda recognised the warning signs to defend himself fro the final assault. In a flash, raw lightning sprang from Sidious's fingertips! The Sith Master's ultimate power had been unleashed…

As the faux royal guard swung his lightsabre at his four opponents, he suddenly felt a ball of tension build up in his mind and explode, sending painful aftershocks rippling through his body. Screaming, he for a moment hit the floor and then shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

Yoda… he could _hear_ Yoda. He could _feel _Yoda. Yoda was in pain… and that didn't happen a lot.

"You fool," he murmured to himself, before he was uncouthly refocused onto the task at hand by two of the royal guards, who had taken their chances and, as one, thrust their pikes into his chest! He yelled, feeling the two agonising jolts of electricity as they were sent coursing through his body, like a pair of flaming arrows, burning him from the inside-out.

As the shocks found ground through his feet, the rescuer was left with a savage anger smouldering in his chest, and, without thought or warning, he just attacked the perpetrators in two deadly blows, cutting them down and leaving their corpses blighted on the hangar floor.

This shocked Padmé, to see the sheer anger and might of the faux guard's sudden offensive, but it caused the remaining two royal guards much more concern. They both opted to move further back, needing time to consider the best way of going about facing this unruly, masked Jedi…

The faux guard was wasting no time on thought, however, and he dashed across the room, working himself between the two remaining royal guards and swinging his blade here and there, attempting to give them similar treatment to their dead friends. The two guards were on the alert, though, and managed to skilfully evade the rescuer's attacks, dodging and sidestepping with an admirable dexterity. It was now that Padmé could finally see a chance to intervene and help out her liberator, so, picking up a pike from one of the dead royal guards, she then rushed behind one of the remaining pair and - whilst this guard was otherwise engaged - thrust the weapon at his spine!

The guard screamed and, in the next instant, was swiftly run through by the mystery Jedi. "Nice work, madam," her rescuer said, before he soon made short work of the remaining guard, who fell after taking a nasty gash across his abdomen.

Panting a little, the faux guard deactivated the lightsabre and took Padmé by the hand; "Come on!" he said, and away they went again.

When they were but a few metres from the ramp leading into the shuttle, a small, green creature came hurtling toward them from another direction, his small cloak both smoking and frayed, and flaying out in his wake.

Padmé could hardly believe her eyes as she turned to watch him. "Master Yoda?" she gasped.

"Come on, Master Yoda!" her faux guard yelled in the meantime, urging Padmé on up the ramp, "We haven't got all day, unless you haven't noticed!"

"Such disrespect you show!" Yoda growled in turn, despite looking very much the worse for wear, "And what is there so bad on your tails? Royal guards? Hmph! A Sith Master there is on mine!"

"More fool you - that was _your _part of the plan, I seem to remember."

Yoda ignored him. "Almost here before you, was I! Hah! What fun it would have been for you to arrive to find Master Yoda having reached here first!"

Padmé was sure the faux guard made a little laugh. "Don't be absurd. Besides, I always leave things to the last minute. You know me better than that."

"Yes. Always to the last minute, the last day, the last _year _even with you. Too true, that is."

Their jibes at one another were only half serious, Padmé could see that much, and by the time they had finished ranting at one another, like old friends who'd spent too much time together, Master Yoda had made it to the ship and they were going up the ramp in unison.

The guard motioned Padmé toward the passenger seats of the shuttle. "Take a seat," he said quickly, before he leapt into one of the pilot's chairs and prepared for a fast getaway.

Padmé sat down, still quite overwhelmed - and even more so puzzled - by everything that was going on. Her feelings of uncertainty leaked away for a moment, however, as she saw Master Yoda struggling to climb into his seat in the cockpit, next to the royal guard; the small Jedi Master grunted, slipped, and tried again, but just couldn't quite get up into that chair. He really did look quite badly bruised and injured, but none of this seemed to effect him right now.

Yoda soon took his cane and reached across, prodding the faux guard in the shin. "Help I need here? See that, can you not, hm? Blind are you becoming again?"

Padmé watched in amazement as the little green warrior was thus levitated into his seat by the other, who hadn't even turned to look at him. The buildings of Coruscant were fast disappearing out the window, being replaced by a field of stars as the shuttle whisked them away into outer space, and to freedom.

"Better," Yoda nodded from his seat, clutching onto his cane as it rested in his lap.

"As long as it renders you quiet, Master Yoda, I'll quite happily do anything," the other said.

**TBC…**


	46. Back from the Dead

**Author's Notes: **I wasn't gonna publish this with part 45, but I thought, seeing as I had it done (before 45), I may as well. It'd be a bit cruel not to. :) You'll like it, anyway. I hope.

The next chapter looks set to be a big, long conversation. I hope you like that sort of thing because I don't plan to switch between scenes at all.

**

* * *

Part 46 - Back from the Dead**

Darth Vader hadn't needed a message to tell him something had gone wrong back on Coruscant. The Force had grabbed him by the arm and tugged whilst he had been travelling over toward Utapau, and had made him, without even his master's permission, come rushing back to Coruscant.

He could smell destruction as soon as he stepped into the senate… But his first thought hadn't been to go to his master, it had been to go to his room, to find his Angel, and to see that she were all right, that the blip in his mind had been something else.

He had therefore been gutted when he had arrived to find nothing there. His future wife, and that tiny dot of life that would one day become his son, were both nowhere to be found. He knew that they were no longer on Coruscant - that they were not even anywhere near Coruscant - and this had sent him into a towering rage.

Throttling the first royal guard that had crossed him by merely looking the man in the visor, Vader and rushed through the hallways like an insane Reek, crashing through furniture and throwing apart doors. The fact that the rooms and halls leading to his master's chambers were obliterated meant nothing to him - he was blinded by a red haze, a great madness, and he wanted answers.

He soon found his way into what could now only be called the remains of his master's apartments, where the Sith Master stood alone in thought. There Darth halted not two metres away from his shadowy mentor and yelled "She's gone!"

The Emperor turned on his protégé slowly, with not a sign of worry or anger to be traced in his posture, though his face was not visible. There was no light in the room to illuminate his person, so he stood there, a silhouette in the gloom, waiting out Vader's anger.

"Where is she?" Vader roared on, "What happened to her?" His eyes were absolutely livid, the whites showing up and practically glowing with ire. This didn't affect the Emperor, though, who continued to just look at his apprentice, hands lightly clasped together and eyes thoughtful. It didn't occur to Vader that there was something different about his master.

Vader then made the mistake of pointing at the Emperor, a mistake he should have known better than to make. "_You _told me she'd be safe," he growled, "You said she'd be mine, that she'd never be taken away from me again! So why has she gone? You _lied_ to me!"

Palpatine didn't move. Darth Vader just suddenly felt a constricting sensation about his throat, and dropped to his knees in distress, spluttering and coughing as his lungs began to protest. It was now that the Emperor chose to step into the light, eyes locked on Vader's face, and it was now that Darth saw what he hadn't chose to see before. Palpatine's face, his very complexion, seemed to have gone awry - his skin was a pallid white in colour, crinkled and bulging, and his eyes were such a striking orange - so full of malice - that it nearly sent a chill through Vader's body.

"Do not think that you are above me, Vader," the man said, his voice still remaining little different than ever, "You are valuable to me, but you are never indispensable."

Vader heaved a deep breath as his trachea was then finally released from the pressure of Sidious's hold, and he glared at the Sith Master warily; he was certain that he was more than indispensable to Palpatine - how many other Chosen Ones would he come across in his lifetime? - but he knew better than to challenge a power that was so much bigger than he was. And he was too shocked by what he now saw before him to think about that right now, anyway. "I apologise, my master," he wheezed.

Sidious nodded curtly. "Good."

Vader then slowly got back to his feet, rubbing his throat. "What happened?" he asked, "Who has done all this?" He daren't ask what had happened to Palpatine exactly, but he could only gather that something had backfired on him, something horrible.

"I had a visit from Master Yoda. And it would seem that, at the same time, he brought along an accomplice… an old friend, to take away young Padmé."

'An old friend?' Vader's brow furrowed and he tried to think on this. The way Lord Sidious had said it unnerved him and sent a feeling of unease - of slight jealousy, even - through his veins.

"They have both caused a little havoc, but it is of little consequence," Palpatine continued, "They won't be coming back for more."

Vader looked over the devastated room, the roof broken, the furniture destroyed and the walls shattered.

"We have more pressing matters at hand right now, Lord Vader," Sidious went on again, "Lest you forget."

Sometimes Vader found the Sith Master's indifference to things incorrigible, and now was one of those moments; "But Master!" he exclaimed, getting a look from Palpatine that he was far from comfortable with, "Padmé is somewhere out there, pregnant with my son! You can't possibly just leave her abductors unpunished? I must get her back! She's mine!"

Palpatine shook his head slowly. "Think rationally, Lord Vader. I cannot afford to have you loose on some wild goose chase about the galaxy. You have Jedi to hunt down and planets to secure. I would hate to think that this girl, this woman - who we mustn't forget has betrayed you once already - be more important to you than my greater vision."

Vader had to swallow his pride, feeling for the first time as if he were caught in a web, with Lord Sidious at its centre. "I understand, my master," he eventually murmured, "I have my priorities straight."

"Good," Sidious nodded again, "For you still have much to do in this galaxy, my apprentice. And, if I'm not mistaken, still much to learn." He walked on passed Lord Vader and down the debris-ridden corridors beyond, with Vader soon following in his wake. "There are more important matters to deal with before we go searching for Miss Amidala," he went on, "We need to implement the final stages of my plan as soon as possible. If we don't start soon, then we shall be vulnerable for more than the next two decades, and that is a period of time I am not willing to leave myself open for." He wafted his hand at young Darth. "I want you to get in touch with Governor Tarkin as soon as possible. Ask him to prepare the foundries, and I shall deal with the rest. And as for your wayward other half…" - He stopped and turned to Vader with a grim smile, his disfigured countenance, complete with rotten teeth, now fully clear for the latter to see - "We shall discuss that matter later. She shall be found."

Vader had already crossed the line during this meeting, so he settled with nothing more than a discontented bow now, having the desperate wish to get out of his master's presence as soon as he could. "As you wish, my lord," he said, before he went on his way. He had had the terrible feeling that he'd only just walked away from that encounter with his life.

* * *

Padmé stirred slowly. She had fallen asleep without realising it, and was laid back on a cot, in the rear of the shuttle, with a blanket thrown neatly over her. It took her mind a while to register where she was, but she soon recalled what had just happened and was more then pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn't been a dream.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked about her. Sat by her bedside, fiddling with something in his lap, was her royal guard friend. She looked a little closer over at him and saw that it was Dooku's lightsabre that he seemed to be tinkering with, and, for some reason, she filled with a sudden anger. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked him, seemingly offended by his audacity to meddle with something that, as far as she was concerned, should no longer be meddled with.

The guard sat back and regarded her through his visor. "Ah, you're awake."

She extended her hand out toward him. "Give that back now."

Her anger seemed to shock him slightly and, somehow, despite wearing that helmet, he looked taken aback.

"Did you hear me?" she repeated, "It's mine. I want it back."

His hand danced lazily over the weapon, but he made no move to hand it to her. "I wasn't under the impression that it was yours," he said.

"It is now," she countered, quite fiercely. She was beginning to find this stranger rather impertinent, and, despite the fact that he had just saved her from a miserable existence, she was far from grateful to him. "Give it to me!" she demanded, stretching over to try and snatch it.

The guard held her back with one arm and angled himself away. "No, m'lady," he continued.

She began to get very angry with him now; "It isn't yours to keep!"

"I beg to differ."

"You arrogant --"

The man pushed her lightly back onto her bunk. "Padmé!" he growled, tearing the helmet from of his head, "It's me!"

Padmé went rigid and just gasped, feeling the blood drain from her face. She didn't know how to react. What kind of joke was this?

The man just sat there staring at her, his eyes bold, yet sound, and his expression unreadable.

Finally, Padmé managed to get some kind of hold on herself, and she uttered, in a low and unsteady tone, "Serenn…?"

He offered her a weak smile and nodded.

She pushed herself back against the shuttle wall and continued to just stare at him. "But you… you _fell_!" she whispered.

"Yes," he said.

"But how…? You… he… I…"

"Have you found the right pronoun yet?"

She laughed properly when he said that, a strange sound even for her ears. He, however, still looked quite grave, and somehow so very different to what he had before, but it still broke the tension like a hammer shattering a window. "Oh Force," she said, feeling her eyes fill with tears. She didn't know what to feel - should she be happy or sad? Grateful or unappreciative? And answers, she wanted so many answers from this man - she hated him and yet, at the same time...

Padmé just threw her arms round him and hugged him. For the moment, things were better left unasked, unsaid and unanswered. For just one tiny moment, she wanted to be completely happy about something. And so she let herself.

Serenn's reaction was a bit strange, however. He seemed to go rigid as Padmé's arms held him in a tight, thankful embrace, as though he wasn't sure what to do, or how to act. Padmé didn't really notice this, and before she even could notice, he had relaxed a little and was now stroking her hair.

"You bastard," she murmured at him once the initial shock had set in, though she was still smiling at the same time, the insult thus given a rather pleasant effect, "You absolute bastard."

"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," he muttered in turn. He patted her back and pried her away from him, looking dreadfully uncomfortable by her friendliness.

It was then that something hit Padmé and she felt her brow knot as she looked at his hands. That was the problem; there were hands - _two _of them. She took a few more deep breaths, blinking hard. "But your arm," she whispered, "It… you…"

He looked at her then down to his hands. They looked the same within those red gauntlets, but as soon as he moved his left hand to the right, and pulled the glove from off the latter, Padmé had to choke back her dismay. There was a hand there, but it was a hand of metal and wires, not flesh and blood. "Oh, Serenn…" she gasped. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

He smiled sadly, giving her shoulder a quick rub with his left hand. "Get some more rest," he whispered, "We've a while to go yet." And with that he disappeared back into the cockpit.

Padmé allowed herself a few moments to calm down and, despite the fact that her mind was now fraught with amazement and an entire host of new questions, she soon drifted back into a deep slumber.

* * *

"Awake, is she?" Master Yoda asked as Serenn joined him in the cockpit.

"Yes," the Count replied quietly, sitting down beside the small Jedi and staring blankly into space.

"In good health, is she?" Yoda went on.

Dooku didn't hear him. "Sorry?"

Yoda gave his old protégé a slight smirk. "In good health, is she, I asked?" he said, tapping Dooku lightly on the knee with his cane. "So old are you, yet still listen to your elders, you do not."

Serenn shook his head and threw his old mentor a 'very funny' glare in return. "She seems all right. I think I shocked her."

Yoda grunted. "Waited to reveal yourself you should have, then, shouldn't you?"

"She was going to find out sooner or later."

"Let her recover first, you should have," Yoda continued, "Then later could you have shocked her."

"It's bit late for your advice, Master Yoda. Besides, I'd no intention of 'shocking' her," Dooku replied, finding Yoda, as ever, incorrigible, "I --" He then shook his head, suddenly forgetting what it was he was exactly trying to say.

They subsequently settled into an uneasy silence, and both stared ahead at the blur of hyperspace. Buttons bleeped on the shuttle's consoles every now and then, until Yoda broke the silence and said, "Missed her, you did."

"Yes, master."

"Very gallant, you were."

"Master Yoda, stop teasing me. I'm not eighteen any more."

"Hmph," Yoda sighed, "Not so sure, am I."

Dooku gave him the eye. "Well, look at you, Master - going in there and taking on Lord Sidious! I always thought you were crazy, but --"

"Oh, and fought him before, you have not?"

"That was --"

"Ah, _different_, was it?"

Serenn heaved a great breath, and forced himself to shut up.

"Face the Sith Master, someone had to," Yoda then assured him, just to get back on top. "My best, I did."

Serenn nodded lackadaisically. "I know, master."

After another half an hour or so of silence, a light began blinking on the console.

"Nearly there, are we?" Yoda asked, feigning ignorance.

"Indeed."

Yoda looked at Dooku. "Then out of hyperspace are you going to bring us?"

Serenn folded his arms. "The lever's on your side of the ship - you do it."

Yoda made a point of reaching forward in his seat and showing that he was not quite able to even touch the edge of the control panel from there. "Think I can reach, do you?" he asked, going on to prod Serenn quite harshly with his cane. "Stupid boy. Always stupid."

Serenn gave him an irritated growl and just leant over to pull the blasted lever and have done with it. The stars of space and the planet Serenno now loomed clearly through the transparasteel before them.

As he slumped back into his seat, though, Dooku's thoughts hinged on something, and he gave Master Yoda a knowing scowl. Yoda looked back indifferently.

"You could have used the Force…" Dooku murmured.

"Hmph. Why bother, should I?" Yoda shrugged, "An old Padawan I have to do that job."

Serenn put his hand over his mouth - he had no intention of letting Yoda see that he was smiling.

**TBC…**


	47. Power and Passion

**Author's Notes: **Ahem. This chapter has already broken the record of chapter 45's length, reaching a great 14000+ words! Eek, I got carried away! This is a big, long, sometimes angsty, occasionally almost slushy chapter about Serenn and Padmé, so expect something that _Eastenders_ would be proud of (j/k). It's taken a lot of work to get there, but I've tried to hit a right and appropriate balance between them, and I think I got there in the end. I'm just hoping that it feels right to you guys. There's been a strange 'thing' going on between these two for ages and I think I've finally resolved it for both parties to my twisted satisfaction. If you don't like the Padmé/Dook' thing, stop reading **now**. (Well, you should have stopped reading a long time ago, but I'll say it for good measure! ;) LOL.) I must also say a massive thank you to **Kynstar **who gave me some useful advice for this chapter and which thus changed it from being a slightly incongruous one into a much more credible one.

After this, we've just got a few more chapters to go until the story concludes, so I think things should begin to round off now. If I could round it off on part 50, I'd be pleased, but we'll see… I've got **one week **to do it all in - oh dear - and I'm just getting far too excited for RotS!

Love you all! **-Juri'**

**Padawanmage: **Of course they had a lot of history. I bet it was absolutely insane. :) I'd try writing about it if doing Yoda-speak didn't do my head in so badly. :) LOL.

**HRHpadméamidala: **He's not gonna be Mr. Composed, I tell you now!

**Silverwolf47: **My story's no way gonna be better that RotS. No way. :)

**Cmdr.GabeE:** The warm fuzzies seem to have been doing their rounds. Glad you liked the Yoda-thing and the Padmé/Dook' hug.

**Queeny: **You're too kind to me, you really are. :)

**REV042175: **I think I'll need to do more explaining about the yoda thing and whatnot in the next part because this one's so full of Padmé/Dook' angst. ;)

**Kynstar: **Thanks again for your advice in our emails. It helped so much! I hope you enjoy the resulting chapter.

**Cael Fenton:** Thanks for coming out of lurk-mode - your reviews are certainly the most in-depth and constructive I've received. I'm so grateful that you've given my fanfic so much time and thought.

* * *

**Part 47 - Power and Passion**

Edna Tarso was one of those people who could be called nothing but constant. She was that stable point in the universe that, no matter what was happening around her, would never change; no war or political upheaval would ever unseat her. She would still be there, at the end of it all, just the same as she had ever been, ready to polish the cutlery and wash the linen. There was something ridiculously comforting about this, Count Dooku thought, as he and Master Yoda landed at his manor on Serenno - at least some things carried on as normal in this crazy galaxy.

Yoda was the first to go down the ramp from the shuttle, after it had landed in the hangar adjacent to the mansion. He was clearly very weary and in pain, but he made no complaint, and just went on his way to gain some solitude and rest. Count Dooku soon followed him, enveloped in his red royal guard attire, and he carried Padmé in his arms, who was still sleeping deeply.

Edna was waiting to greet them by the far door, and she came to the Count's side as he emerged, but before she could begin to rattle off about how terrible things were and whatnot, Serenn spoke first; "I need a room for this young lady, as soon as possible," he said.

Mrs. Tarso fell into step beside him, trotting along hurriedly as the Count marched across the small hangar. "Oh, but sir, there are no more rooms available," she said.

"No more?" he asked, stopping and giving her a surprised glance, "No more, in this huge place?"

"Well, sir, I'm sorry to remind you, but we are currently playing host to quite an assembly of guests. I've never in my life had the place so full! I've done everything to Master Kenobi's wishes, just as you said, and housed everyone in the available chambers, and --"

Serenn nodded, having to force a silence on her because she would never stop talking otherwise. "Yes, all right," he said. "She can have my room."

"Your room, sir?" Mrs. Tarso asked. "But where shall you sleep?"

He shrugged and began walking again. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find a sofa somewhere."

"Now, really, sir," Edna gasped.

"Please, Edna, trust me. After all I've been through, I wouldn't even turn the floor down for a night of sleep." He gave her a departing nod and left his housekeeper stood there, quite vexed.

* * *

It was some time later when Padmé finally awoke. As she blinked in the light, she briefly forgot about the events of the past few hours and felt quite disorientated. Then suddenly, everything came rushing back to her in one go, like splashes of paint onto a white canvas. She rolled onto her side and looked about the room, initially trying to ascertain where she now was. It was all recognisable, from the old tapestries on the walls to the great windows with the long curtains, and, though she knew that she hadn't been in this exact room before, she was unlikely to forget the old-fashioned décor of this place. She knew she was on Serenno. 

She sighed and collapsed back onto her pillow, turning to see a pretty little vase of flowers stood on a chest of drawers to her side. A clear, healthy ray of sunlight showered down through the curtains at the window and gave the room a most homely glow. Slowly, she felt a sensation begin to overcome her - one of relief. The simple fact was that she wasn't on Coruscant anymore, so surely she was safe now?

"Well, you're awake!" came a voice suddenly from the doorway.

Padmé turned and sat up, knowing that voice at once. "Obi-Wan!" she cried, smiling widely. "Oh, thank the Force… I never imagined I'd --"

The Jedi Knight came over and sat by her side, embracing her. "I'm so happy to see you," he said, "I thought Yoda was being plain crazy when he told me he was going back to Coruscant, but just to see you here has made it all worth it. It's been such a long time."

"I don't understand," she confessed, trying not to get tearful, so overwhelmed was she by relief; "I just really don't understand."

"It'll all come out in time," he assured her, patting her shoulder. "But first, you must rest."

He made to get up, but Padmé gripped his sleeve and said, "Obi-Wan, where is he?"

Obi sat back down and regarded her carefully. He didn't need to ask who she was talking about. "He's resting," he replied.

Padmé allowed herself a smile. "Force, what a brash, stupid plan… to just run in there and grab me!" She laughed at the thought. "It wasn't yours, I gather?"

"No, I had nothing to do with it," he replied, "It was all down to him - and a little to Yoda, of course - but we couldn't think of anything better to do right now. When we finally heard where you were, and… well, what he presumed was happening to you, we had to get you out of there. It was that one-shot plan or nothing at all. And we had to have one final strike at Palpatine… Yoda did all he could, but he wasn't strong enough. No one is."

Obi-Wan paused for a moment, then reached out and stroked Padmé's hair back from her face so that he could see her clearly. "You look different, Padmé," he whispered, "You're thinner, paler, and a little older, if I'm not mistaken. Has life been so very bad…?"

She swallowed, drawing her knees up to her chest and sighing, "Yes… Oh, Obi-Wan, what has happened to Anakin?"

Kenobi rubbed her shoulder a little, though he knew it would be of little comfort. "Palpatine has fooled and manipulated us all. Anakin more than others…" He frowned to himself. "The Emperor knows what he is doing. I just wish we had been more careful…"

There was a moment's silence.

"Can I see Serenn, Obi-Wan?"

Kenobi dropped out of his reverie and got to his feet, looking a little less than happy by her request. "Well, I shall get a message to him, but it's down to him whether he then comes to see you or not."

That was a strange answer, but Padmé left it at that. "Thank you," she said.

Obi smiled sadly then left.

Padmé watched the empty space where he had been for a moment before she got to her feet and drew the curtains fully apart at the window. She must be on another side of the house to where she had been on her first visit, she thought, for a gorgeous lake greeted her out the window, surrounded by fields full of grass. The birds were all singing and the sky was blue - it was glorious.

She leant on the sill and just stared over the landscape for a while before she was seen to by her old acquaintance, Mrs. Tarso, the kindly old housekeeper whom she had quite forgotten since her last unfortunate stay here. Edna helped her have a good wash, and dressed her in some plain but fresh attire, chatting to her constantly about the house full of 'rebels' and the fact the Count had given up his room for her, and whatnot. By the time she left to see to the other guests, it was growing dark again, and Padmé was soon just ushered back into bed to rest. There had been no sign of Count Dooku.

She lay there late into the night, her eyes wide open, listening for the slightest sound out in the hallway lest her rescuer finally come to see her, but he did not. By the time she decided to check the clock by her bedside, it was midnight. She sighed, unsure why Serenn would do this to her, and give her the snub. It felt wrong.

Though it was against her better judgement, Padmé soon just got out of bed in her nightdress and put on a pair of slippers she had been given, before she pattered out into the manor's dark hallways like a sleepless child. The manor was as creepy and foreboding as ever, and all the paintings of the Dookus of the past still glared out to her from the walls, following her movements in the dark. She hadn't a clue where she was going - Serenn could be anywhere - but she had to find him. He couldn't leave her hanging like this, waiting for so many explanations - surely he must have known that?

"So restless are we, Senator Amidala? At this hour, even?"

Padmé's hand shot to her chest and she gasped in shock as, looking to her right, she saw Master Yoda. He was sat down on a decorative chair, by the edge of the wall, and bathed in a shower of moonlight.

The wrinkled old Jedi heaved a great sigh and slowly opened one of his eyes to look at her. "Mmm… fraught with troubles, your mind is. Great troubles."

"Master Yoda," she whispered, finally finding her voice. "I, well…"

Yoda closed his eye again and seemed to go back into his meditative state. Padmé just frowned at him, wondering how she was expected to react to this.

After a couple of silent minutes, she gathered that Master Yoda had no intention of continuing to speak, so she quietly picked up her feet again and began to step passed him. Yoda consequently thrust his gnarled walking stick out across her path, and said, as she halted again in surprise, "On the ground floor, you need to be. Training in the hall, he is."

Padmé blinked at him, momentarily stunned, but soon hurried off in the direction Yoda had indicated. How had he known? It was scary, and almost as if he had been waiting for her - but at least she knew where she had to go now.

She rushed on down the corridor until she found a flight of stairs, which she descended quickly, before she then turned and made for a passageway to the east. She now seemed to have some notion of where she was going, and it didn't take her long to recognise the corridor where she knew the training hall was located. This was where, during her first visit, she had heard the sounds of a lightsabre in the dark, and where she had first opted to try and kill Serenn. It sounded so stupid now…

As she reached the doors of the hall, she could hear the sound of a lightsabre again from within, thrumming here and there as its wielder put himself through his paces. Without hesitation, Padmé pushed open the door and went in.

Serenn was there, just as Master Yoda had said, and, immediately sensing her presence, the Count halted and turned to look at her. The room was very dark, as it had been on their first encounter there, and the perspiration on his bare chest and forehead twinkled in the ruby light of his weapon.

She held his gaze for a while, then watched his chest as it rose and fell. It was all so strange to see him there; he was clearly alive and well, stood right before her eyes, yet she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had died. To think that he had been out there all this time…

And thus Padmé whispered, "I thought you were dead." She wasn't quite sure to whom she spoke - to him or to herself - but it had resonance either way.

He blinked then replied, "It might have been better if I was."

Padmé felt her brow crease - what kind of an attitude was this? It didn't seem like him at all…

The Count swung his 'sabre this way and that in his hand before he ran his thumb over the hilt and deactivated the weapon. The room thus fell dark, lit by nothing but a faint shimmer of moonlight that crept in beneath the window blinds, rendering the entire scene quite ghostly.

Anxiety trembled in Padmé's veins; she was nervous, yet she knew not why.

With a wave of his hand, Serenn sent the blinds rolling up and brought a full wash of moonlight into the room, cascading down through the glass in great, white torrents. He and Padmé could see each other clearly now, but the atmosphere was tense, very different to how Padmé had expected it to be. "What is it?" she asked him. There was something wrong, something troubling him, and it only made her feel nervous in turn. She was beginning to regret seeking him out at all.

He heaved a great breath before he suddenly tossed his 'sabre hilt up into the air. Padmé watched it fly upwards, and then tumble down, before the Count caught it again in his hand, the weapon making a solid thud as it landed in his palm. He then stared at it for a little while before he flung it up again, but this time he caught it with his other hand, the metal one, so that it clanged as he grabbed it. "Answer me this," he said quietly. "How can you be so strong?" He looked to her and their eyes met. "How can you look me in the face and not shudder to think of what I've done to you? How can you not want to plunge my own lightsabre through my heart?"

She gaped at him, shocked, and yet she knew he had a point.

"I am sullied, soiled by my own disgusting acts and deeds, from which no water in this universe can purify me… and I wasn't even fast enough to save you from him. I was just too late. I wasn't strong enough."

Padmé really was at a complete loss for words. It was what he did next that terrified her the most, though. With great determination, he marched across the floor toward her and dropped to his knees at her feet, then held his lightsabre up and pointed it in toward his chest.

Padmé shook her head in alarm. "Stop it…" she whispered.

He stared up at her, the moonlight highlighting the whites of his eyes in the gloom. "Tell me to do it, and I will," he said.

This was more heartbreaking and more disturbing a scene than any which she could ever have imagined he would put her through. She wished he were playing some twisted game with her, but she knew, from that look in his eyes, that he wasn't.

He pressed the weapon a little further toward his breast, indenting his skin with its distinctive, jutting blade protector.

Padmé choked on her fear, the real fear that he might actually do it. "Stop it," she asked him again, feeling her palms sweat with terror. It was unbearable to see this noble creature knelt before her in submission, asking, almost begging her to let him end his life.

"I will if you wish it…" he said again.

"But I don't! I don't wish it!" she cried. She dropped to her knees before him and placed her hands over his, prying the weapon away and, at the same time, completely reversing the incident from back in her room on Coruscant, where he, as the royal guard, had saved her. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, "You save me and reawaken all my hopes, then threaten to impale yourself before my eyes?" She finally forced his hands down and stared him in the face. "Why? What's wrong?"

He was looking at her, but in great anguish, and his breaths were coming thick and fast from out of his throat, as if he was going to cry. She shook her head a little again and placed her hand on his cheek. "I don't need this, Serenn," she said. "What is it?"

He didn't meet her gaze. He looked so vulnerable and innocent, and so broken within, that Padmé didn't quite know what to do.

"I'm sorry… I never meant to frighten you," he said at last in a hoarse whisper. "I don't know who I am anymore, Padmé, or what keeps coming over me. I'm just afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

He swallowed convulsively and she could see that he truly was crying. That was perhaps the most telling thing for her - to see tears roll over that barren wasteland, a rare and significant occurrence on his part if ever there was one.

She gently caressed his cheek again and stroked his long hair back from his face. "Serenn, please… You come and rescue me in good spirits, and now you're being like this? I can't deal with that."

He closed his eyes with another sigh. "I can't try to forget it forever, Padmé. I can't brush everything I have done under the theoretical carpet and try to dismiss it." He paused for a moment before he resolved to get to his feet. "Every time I close my eyes, I see blood. I see the bodies I have inadvertently slaughtered, the people I have hurt, the planets I have devastated." He then looked at her intently. "And I see you, the person I have hurt most of all."

She bit her lip gently, having to glance down to avoid those ravaged eyes.

"There are times when I want to end it, like just now. I can't escape it…"

"This isn't like you," she whispered.

He gave her a significant look. "No… but I'm not simply 'me' anymore." He turned away and heaved a great sigh. "I sense that you want answers. That is fair enough. I need to tell you everything as it is. It's eating me up from inside and if I don't tell you, then I don't think I can consciously carry on." He put the lightsabre toward his chest again. "And if I can't carry on, then I'll have no choice."

'_This weapon is your life'_

Padmé placed her hand over his again. "I know we need to talk, but please don't be like this. I don't even understand what's happened to me, or why, but to hear you talk like this…"

He just stared at her as she sought for the words.

"I can't bear it," she said at last. "I've been through Hell, and then been through it again, and now here you are, wallowing in self-pity. How am I supposed to react to that?"

He chewed on his tongue, her words hitting him like a slap in the face.

"I need your help," she implored, clasping his metal hand in hers.

Serenn looked at her small, delicate fingers as they curled about his ugly, bulky limb; there was such a great contrast there, and it felt weird.

"Please don't do this," she pleaded, her voice barely audible.

Dooku placed his other hand gently on top of hers and tried to collect his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I just can't quite come to terms with everything, or find any answers for it all. I just feel like I've lost all control." He paused for another moment, then said, out of the blue. "I saw it all Padmé, every night in my dreams… I saw that man, that _boy_, pleased about what he was doing to you, trying to possess you so badly that he caused you pain." He shuddered as he forced down the memories. "And I just couldn't prevent it. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

He walked away from her and drew a towel to his hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead and his body. He then tossed it back onto a bench nearby and said, "I'm sorry I didn't come to you earlier, when you asked for me. I couldn't bring myself to face you again. You caught me completely off guard in the shuttle. I never thought you'd embrace me like that. And now, I just feel so awkward. I don't know who I am, or what I am, or how to treat you."

He quietened for a minute and looked around for his shirt, but couldn't seem to find it. "I had to go back, to rescue you," he went on, giving up his search. "There was no question about that - it was my duty - and yet now that you're here…" He looked at her, his mouth moving in silence as he tried to find the words. "I can't even convey my feelings to you. I don't know what to feel, or how to feel, or…" He sighed once more and shook his head, kneading his temples. "Oh, what does it matter? _I _don't matter any more. But you do."

The Count then offered her his metal hand.

Padmé hesitated but soon placed her own hand into his, and trembled a little as those fingers closed round her own.

"I am at your service," he said as he closed his grip on her. "You have many questions to ask, so allow me to answer them, and to tell you everything."

She swallowed again and nodded to him. "Then tell me everything, Serenn," she whispered as she held him by the arm and looked into his brown eyes. "Tell me it all."

* * *

Serenn decided to move to somewhere a little more comfortable for this difficult conversation, and so he escorted Padmé to the manor's large sitting room. He got a fire going in the grate whilst Padmé settled herself nearby, sitting in one of the bottle-green armchairs; in fact, it was the very chair she had sat upon during her first visit here, all that time ago. Dooku then stared at the portrait of one of his ancestors over the fireplace, and watched how the shadows now shifted and danced over his visage and clothes, before he began to speak. 

"I joined Lord Sidious ten, maybe eleven years ago now," the Count related, "The Republic was failing before my very eyes and Qui-Gon, my dearest Padawan and friend, had been slaughtered in the midst of this corruption, doing his duty. I was angry, Padmé - violently so. I could see things happening all around me but I had not the power to do anything. On top of this, the Council was becoming increasingly frustrated with my temper and with my constant agitation toward the senate, so I decided to get out of there before it was too late." He looked at her. "Don't think it was an easy decision to make - I had to embark suddenly upon a kind of life I had never been able to lead before. I came into ownership of a vast fortune; I was free to dress as I liked, to own what I liked, and to practically do whatever I liked. More importantly, I could feel how I liked, and freely, too."

His fingers went to his lips and he tapped them for a moment. "Lord Sidious is a clever man, and he has always been so. I confess that I almost joined him out of sheer spite, but I did need everything that he offered me. With the power he gave me, and the extra training - training of the likes I have never suffered before - I knew I could achieve all the changes that I had ever wanted in the galaxy. I could oppose the Republic."

Padmé let him talk and merely listened so that she could try to understand this man and, hopefully, in due course, find some answers of her own.

"But when one starts off gaining such power," Serenn continued, "one doesn't quite know when it is safe to stop. With every step I took, I set the limits for achieving my objectives a little further away, so that, bit by bit, and unbeknownst to me, I began heading to the extreme. Every time I crossed the theoretical line, I didn't stop myself; I just reset the boundary to suit me until I had just gone too far.

"By the time one realises they have succumbed to the dark side, and cannot get out, it is a shock. It is a fact one denies oneself and something one cannot quite believe they have stooped to, but it happens, and then one is lost to it." He looked at her. "It tortures and torments one, this dark side. I never mastered it - it only mastered me. I took it greedily at first, revelling in my newfound strength and abilities, but now… I have gone so deep that it has consumed me. I cannot get away from it. It shall haunt my dreams and feed off my weaknesses until I die. I now realise that there is only one master of the dark side, and that is Lord Sidious; he is infallible, and the dark side serves him. It preys on the rest of us, we dark side pretenders, for those of us who have known love or compassion cannot master it - we can only be enslaved by it."

Padmé swallowed heavily. It was frightening to hear him talk about the dark side like this.

"And I never realised all this until that night, after I had abused you in that shower, when you told me I was evil. That dug beneath my skin and tore into my nerves unlike anything anyone has ever said to me before. It was from that moment that you made me slowly perceive the error of my ways and made me understand that I had, in fact, become a slave to the darkness, not the other way round."

Padmé fiddled with the seam of the upholstery on her chair. "I've never been so scared of you than I was at that moment," she confessed, trying not to think about it. "You were just wicked."

Serenn's face withdrew in on itself and she could see him pondering on all this with remorse. "I'm not sure what happened to me that evening, Padmé," he said, "I just wanted vengeance on Skywalker so badly, and…" He swallowed. "I needed to prove to myself that Skywalker had no power over me, that he couldn't stop me. And there you were, at my mercy, ready for the taking. All I had to do was use my powers, to just reach out --" And here he held his bionic arm out before him, grasping lightly at the air, before he then dropped it back by his side. "But no… you stopped me." He sighed. "I was simply infatuated by you."

She felt herself colour a little. She was grateful that he decided not to notice it.

"So, what else can I tell you?" he implored, "Question me, interrogate me - I beg you."

She sighed and thought over everything, trying to find a place to start. "I'd like to know what happened to you after that battle with Palpatine," she said, "I don't understand how you survived."

He nodded, then steepled his fingers and looked at her, sucking in a long breath, before saying, "Well, let me see… I'll start at the end of the battle. Darth Sidious was stood over me and --"

_"If there can be only one apprentice," the Sith Master said, his lightsabre hovering idly above Dooku's chest, "Then one of you must die." He hooked Dooku's 'sabre hilt to his belt and raised his own behind his head. "Who do you think I have chosen to die, Tyranus?"_

_Serenn swallowed, his cards all but spent. If he faced reality, the only question that now remained was simply how he would die… And he made that decision in but a second. He rolled across the ledge to his left, clutching the stump of his right arm in his other hand, before he flung himself off the edge of the building. _

_Sidious's 'sabre severed nothing but air as it fell and he watched the Count drop down into the darkness of Coruscant below; "Then so be it…" he muttered, swinging his blade round once more in his hand before it fizzled out into nothingness and he returned into the chamber._

_The wind rushed through Serenn's hair, the lit windows of the skyscrapers flashing by as he plunged on downwards to gravity's will. The pain in his severed arm was immense and threatened to override his senses completely, but he wouldn't let it - there was still hope._

Serenn smiled vaguely at Padmé. "Skywalker wasn't the only Jedi to ever have been a notorious acrobat of the sky-lanes. He was but one of a long legacy."

Padmé just frowned at him, a little confused.

_Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to the Force, let it fill his fatigued and exhausted body and his weary limbs with new life. The speed at which he was falling seemed to slow, and he found himself focused once more and able to take control of this impossible scenario. He opened his eyes, and flung his remaining hand out to his left, grasping for but a brief moment the passing bumper of an air taxi. From this he swung his body to the right, falling down onto the shiny, frictionless hull of a huge freighter vessel._

_He ground his teeth together, striving to keep the agony within his body contained as he slid rapidly down the ship and off its edge, giving himself up once more to the air. He was falling with calculation and control now - the Force was with him._

"Though I doubt that that couple in the taxi will ever be the same again…" the Count added.

Padmé continued to look befuddled. "I don't follow you…"

_His fall was perfectly timed - he kicked himself off from a cab and towards a cruiser, which he managed to land upon, and jumped off onto another cab, before he flipped off this and plummeted down into the seat of another unsuspecting taxi. The couple sat in there just screamed as he landed before them._

_He didn't take his time to even look at them however as he let the Force guide him and vaulted back over the vehicle's edge, before he landed unsteadily on the permacrete of one of the city's upper street levels below. Collapsing onto the floor and inching his way backward into a dark alley, retreating like an injured beast out of sight, he sat there for a long time and just clutched his wound, trying to gather his strengths. He was suddenly very alone and vulnerable in the universe, having fallen (literally) from the top to the bottom of the hierarchy in a mere matter of minutes._

"I fell a long way," he explained, "Through sky-lane after sky-lane, passing so many stories of the skyscrapers, I dare not dwell on the thought… I had to think fast, to try and recall the reckless days of my youth, and to do the impossible - control my fall."

Padmé shook her head a little. "You can't control a fall…" she said.

"Then tell me how I survived."

She looked at him hard. In the end, she just nodded stiltedly and was forced to accept the unbelievable.

"Yes…" he said. "Do not doubt the impossible."

"And then what happened?" she went on. "How did you end up with Master Yoda?"

He caressed his beard and stared into the fireplace; "It's strange, isn't it?" he said, a little absentmindedly, "I had a reason to live, and yet… I had no idea how to go about getting back on my feet again." He smiled bitterly. "I don't know how long I was down there, living unnoticed in the depths of Coruscant, cradling the painful, throbbing stump of my arm, and skulking in dark corners. The pain got to a point where it frankly blinded me. I just sat there, cold, weak and alone, until, out of the darkness one day, a small hand touched me and said, 'Welcome home, Serenn'."

The Count paused, blinking and looking thoughtful. "Master Yoda had found me," he said. "I don't pretend to know how - his abilities are beyond me - but, together with some volunteers, he dragged me to my feet and hauled me back through Coruscant, unseen and unheard."

Serenn paused and raised his eyebrows briefly in amazement. "You know, it's frankly astonishing what people resolve not to see down there." He cast this aside, and continued; "The rest of the journey was fuzzy to me. I know I was taken into some sort of shuttle, and thence off-planet, but I slipped in and out of consciousness so much that I hadn't a clue what was going on. Master Yoda was always there, though. He sat by my bedside speaking to me, and talking about my boyhood and all my mistakes, telling me about his expectations and his pride in me. And his disappointment, too." Serenn stopped here and wiped his eyes, having talked himself into a bit of an awkward spot.

"So Master Yoda just forgave you?" Padmé asked, "Rescued you without question?"

Dooku looked at her from under his hooded eyelids and heavy brow, and murmured, at length, "Master Yoda does not forgive easily, but he also does not hold grudges. I cannot make up for my betrayal to him, or take back the anger with which I fought him on Geonosis, but he knows me better than anyone, and he could see - no, rather he could _sense - _the changes that had by then taken place in me. He came to find me on Coruscant, not because I was being Tyranus and he wanted answers, but because I was being Dooku again and he needed my help. And I do not doubt that, perhaps, without my even knowing it, in those moments of delirious pain, I may have reached out for him in turn and sought frantically for the aid of that kindly little creature who had always loved me most… And so he came and found me, and, thus, I was home."

This made Padmé feel very sad for some reason, to hear Dooku relate this to her and to see the distress in his eyes and the creases in his brow. She was sure that this must now weigh on him somewhat, the fact that he owed his life to Master Yoda, a Jedi he had almost killed in combat not too long ago, at the start of the Clone Wars. It was just one of the many prices he had had to pay.

"So you two are friends again?" she continued.

He gave her another of his pensive looks. "I suppose 'friends' is the word. How else can I possibly treat an individual who has saved my life? Master Yoda has helped me to recover, to clear my mind, and to rescue you. I owe it to him, and I dare say to myself, to become something of his student again."

He looked back to the flames beneath the mantelpiece and watched them waltz with one another in tumult. "I've already told you about my nightmares, haven't I? Before I rescued you, in nearly every single one of these dreams, I saw you, you with that Skywalker, and I felt all your pain and suffering as though it were my own." He clenched his fists and breathed heavily, shaking his head. "It was horrible…"

Padmé felt the blood drain from her face and her heart filled with an icy-cold sensation as her memories from those recent dark times with Anakin came flooding back.

"I couldn't take it--" Serenn stammered on. "I couldn't sit back and know what he was doing to you, and let it all happen." He heaved a great sigh, his eyes glassy with rage, directed more at himself than anyone other; "I couldn't let you go through all that again. That was why I carried on - to save you."

Padmé remained silent. He looked so much like Anakin in how he acted right now, in how his eyes shone with regret, how his body could barely control the ire he felt toward himself. It scared her a little, these similarities, but it was at least the Anakin of before that she saw in him, and not the Emperor's Darth Vader.

"As long as you're safe now," he went on, his voice falling to a hoarse whisper, "Then that's some comfort. I don't care anymore what happens to me. I have done my duty to you, though I doubt that it is of much consolation, and I'm sorry that I was too late to help you…"

"It's okay," she said, getting to her feet and walking to his side. The fire sent a welcome shimmer of warmth over her skin as she stood in front of the hearth, and she reached out, placing her hand on his metallic arm and giving him a faint smile. "I'm very grateful for what you did."

He stared at her, seeming to be a little amazed by her words and her very composure. He moved a little from the mantelpiece and turned to face her head on, raising his left hand to her cheek and stroking her skin gently. "I know he did terrible things to you, just as I once did…" He tilted her face this was and that, then took her arm and looked over it, seeing traces of bruising and rough handling there. "I don't understand how I could do it now, dare to imprint such marks of brutality on you… dare to take what is not mine to have." He rubbed his thumb over some of the bruises, just lightly, so as not to hurt her.

"I don't understand it, either, Serenn," Padmé whispered in turn, running her finger in gentle circles over the top of his hand. "Anakin hurt me so much..." She swallowed and looked at the Count. "I know you did, too, but this…" She took a deep breath, shuddering. "It was as if he _wanted_ to hurt me, to just hurt me as much as possible, so that he could cleanse me of… of…"

Realisation dawned upon Serenn and he whispered, "Of _me_."

Their eyes then met and Padmé nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "Of you." She pulled away from him and hugged herself, feeling a chill traverse her body. She suddenly wished she'd put on a robe of some sort, or even just a jacket, because she felt so cold now. Serenn noticed this and moved back to her side, against his better judgement, so he could put his arm round her and rub her bare arms to keep her warm. "You should have known better than walking around this place in your nightshirt," he said.

She smiled faintly and let him touch her. In fact, she rather welcomed it. It was a relief for him to just go off-topic for a moment, and just to feel his hands on her.

"I'm in a good mind to take you back to your room now," the Count resolved at length, "You really need to rest."

"No, don't," she asked him. "Please, not yet."

He sighed and let her have her way.

She paused a minute and watched his hands on her arms, hands that had done so much, and hurt so many, the same hands that had taken her by the shoulders on their first fateful meeting, which had pinned her to the wall in that Nubian shower, which had carried her off that precipice on the uncivilised planet… and which now comforted her beyond measure. "Serenn," she asked as she mused on all this, "Why did you do it?"

She stopped again, unable to articulate the actual word. She knew she had to get it out, though, to speak to him about it and get to the bottom of it all. She swallowed hard and built up her courage, saying at last, "Why did you rape me?"

His hands shuddered to a halt and his very demeanour seemed to fall into the depths of despondency. "Oh, Padmé…" he whispered, "I can hardly think of a reason now. There is never a reason for it, not a valid one."

"I need to know."

He clutched her arm a little and nodded his concurrence. "Yes… I know you do."

"So why…?" she pleaded.

He sighed, pausing for a while.

"Please bear with me. I may be crude," he murmured at first. "I might have to be…" He then took a deep breath and said, "You were 'untouched', as the euphemism goes, when I first met you. I knew that. I also knew that you had a young, strapping Padawan on your tail, vying for your heart, a Padawan who had also made himself my enemy and, not only that, but who had held my master's, and many other peoples', interests for some time. This boy had to be felled. So, what better way to knock down a Jedi then by encouraging him to take himself off track? The easiest, and most terrible, way I could do this was through you. He loved you desperately and wanted you to be his and his alone." His thumb made a slight pass over Padmé's skin, and he breathed deeply before he carried on. "I thus took it upon myself to make sure that he could never have you all to himself. I slept with you, and took your virginity, and that was that. It could not be undone, and it sent Skywalker spiralling downwards faster than anyone anticipated. So fast, in truth, that I didn't see my own displacement coming along with it."

He left her side and walked away toward a window, passing out of the circle of light that the fire gave off, and allowing himself to be swallowed by the shadows. "It was all a game, Padmé," he whispered, overcome by a terrible sensation of disgust and pain. "One big, sick, twisted game."

Padmé stared ahead into space. She thought that she would feel uncomfortable about this, about being so near him when he was telling her about his most horrific of crimes against her, and yet she didn't. Perhaps that was because she didn't feel like she was with that same man anymore. This still couldn't prevent her feelings of insecurity and betrayal coming back to haunt her, though; nothing could wipe those stains from her soul. "So I should be blaming you for Anakin's fall?" she quietly deliberated. "For everything?"

Serenn froze up at that. "If you so wish," he murmured, "I cannot deny that I had a good share of the responsibility." He turned to her again and stepped back into the light. "But don't forget, Padmé," he went on, "I didn't only orchestrate the beginning of Anakin's fall, but I also orchestrated my own, completely without realising it. Sidious used you not only to draw Anakin away, but to defeat me."

Padmé looked at him carefully as he talked, staring into his eyes all the time.

"He knew I was falling in love with you," Serenn went on, "Force, he probably foresaw it, he has a habit of that - so he used you as my weakness at the same time as he used you as Anakin's. Can you see what happened, and how I fell into my own trap?"

She nodded stiltedly, feeling more than a little numb and lost inside. "It's strange," she mused, "I just… don't know how to feel about you." She turned to the mantelpiece and reached out to it, running her finger along some of the carved shapes on the stonework. "You've finally admitted that you were falling in love with me," she whispered, "but it doesn't take away what you did. You raped me for little other than your master's gains, and that emotionless attitude frightens me more than anything. You did it for purely functional reasons…" She looked straight at him. "And you lied to me. Why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me for so long afterwards that nothing had happened?"

He looked so uncomfortable and revolted by himself right now that Padmé wouldn't have put it past him to run from his shadow, so it understandably took him a while to collect himself enough to answer.

"I had to lie," he confessed at last. "I had to keep you in enough doubt so that you would never be able to do anything about it. You had no proof that anything had transpired, no memory, just a feeling. What could you do? Nothing except stick with me, as much as that hurt you. At the same time, I had done enough to set the alarm bells ringing in Skywalker's head - the Force told him everything; I wasn't sure that it would, but it did, and I had therefore fed the flames of his rage enough to keep him burning for a long time. Sidious meanwhile played along in the background and continued to add but more and more fuel to Skywalker's ire, and the effects are plain to see. Even now, that boy has not gotten over it all. He still seeks to wipe every trace of me from this galaxy. And from you."

"But if you hadn't done it," Padmé stated coldly, "then he wouldn't have, either. Don't you understand that? It's _all _your fault!"

He swallowed and nodded reluctantly. "I know…"

"I should hate you," she said, "But I hate what Anakin's done more because I've known him for a long time, and it hurts so much more when you see someone you love destroy themselves, and then destroy you." She wiped her eyes again. "He's changed, and you've changed, and I don't know where I am anymore."

Padmé's finger was still wandering over the fireplace and it paused suddenly over a carving of some kind of fruit - it looked like a bunch of grapes. She ran her finger down over the curves of this until she reached the bottom, and there she paused again. "I'm afraid, Serenn," she whispered. "I never wanted this to happen. Not like this, not now…"

Serenn came back fully into the light and his brow creased. There was something wrong here, he could feel it, yet it was something he couldn't perceive through the Force, something that had been kept hidden from him. "What's happened?" he asked.

Padmé turned to him as he paced over the rug before the hearth and then stood before her. She felt suddenly awkward; the thought had just come to her mind, as she looked at this battle-scarred Jedi, of what exactly he meant to her. Obi-Wan was a friend, people like Bail were colleagues, the Emperor was an enemy, but him… what _was _he?

She looked down at the rug, following its intricate patterns with her eyes as she thought on this. She needed to tell someone about her condition because it was consuming her from within, not to mention that it would undoubtedly endanger her, and anyone else near her, due to the eagerness with which she would soon be sought by Lord Vader. But why did she want to tell _him _first? It was half the reason she'd sought him out, she secretly knew that, and yet what _was_ Serenn? She couldn't see him as a friend - she knew him far too well for that - but he wasn't a lover, either. Anakin was, or rather had been, her lover. Yet, if Serenn wasn't a lover, then what, in the Force's name, was he? And why was telling him this now proving to be so difficult?

Serenn looked uneasy as he picked up on Padmé's vacillation, and he couldn't help but raise his hand to her cheek and cup it, running his thumb tenderly over her skin. He could see this surprised her, but she did not repel him - on the contrary, she leant into his touch, and lay her hand on top of his, trying to draw some comfort from him.

As she soaked up Serenn's affection, it then suddenly occurred to Padmé that this whole picture felt rather familiar…

'_From the moment I met you, not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. And now that I'm with you again, I'm in agony.'_

The fireplace, the quiet, the solitude… It was another one of those ironies.

'_The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you… I can't breath.'_

Padmé gasped all of a sudden as she felt Serenn's lips on her cheek, and her hands shot forward to grab his shoulders in an attempt to ground herself. His left hand remained by her face, whilst his metal one took in the curve of her shoulder, and slid over the silky fabric of her nightgown until it settled on her hip. Padmé felt an inappropriate burst of desire erupt within her at this, and her body tingled all over.

The Count moved his lips from her cheek and she then, for just a moment, felt his breaths against her ear, before he teased the lobe with his mouth. She actually moaned a little then, to her shame, and wondered briefly how they'd gotten into this situation; he'd just suddenly made a move on her and she hadn't stopped him! His desire for her seemed to have taken him by the neck - or something else, more likely - and pulled, but, to make matters worse, she found his emotional turn infectious; suddenly, she just wanted to caress and hold him, too. Maybe he was a lover after all…? But, bearing in mind all they'd just talked about, was this the answer? Did this solve things? Or had she not really come to talk things over at all…?

Padmé sighed out loud again as Serenn continued to play with her ear - it was surprising how sensitive it was - before he then moved down to kiss her neck. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, and she clasped the back of his head with one, and moved the other to the small of his back, holding him tightly into her. Her silk-covered breasts pressed into his bare chest and she felt a shudder run through his body, which then sent a tremble off in her own. Suddenly, all that mattered to her was _him _- never mind her apprehensions or her worries.

It was a mystery to her how she subsequently ended up flat-out on the rug; she just didn't realise she was down there until she became aware of his body pressing onto her whilst she kissed him with wild abandon. She jumped a little as his metal hand drifted up her thigh to her hip, and she arched her back, driving herself against him. He groaned loudly and it sent a thrill through her, to actually have some kind of influence on him, and yet… There was something missing.

Suddenly, Padmé felt nervous again. Suddenly, she remembered what she had to tell Serenn. Suddenly, Anakin's ghost was hovering between them and, as all these thoughts flustered her, they soon diverted him in turn. He drew his lips away from hers and looked at her, seeking an explanation for what had gone wrong, and for the reason of this hiatus, because he wasn't sure himself.

Padmé sighed, frustrated. She had been so close to having what she had never had before - plain devotion, trust and compassion - and, even now, when she knew it had retreated back out of reach, she still kept her grip on Dooku, as though afraid of losing him.

"What is it?" Serenn asked, running his fingers through her hair as he lay on top of her.

She looked away sadly, her hand trailing unconsciously down his back, circling at the small, before then retreating back up to his shoulders and running over the ridges of the scar tissue that lay all over his spine. She realised she couldn't do this, not whilst so much still remained unresolved and uncertain. Serenn soon understood this and so eased himself off her, wiping his forehead and looking quite humiliated.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered, "I--"

"No," she hurriedly assured him, "It's okay. It's just me, I--"

"I'm so stupid," he growled, "To think you'd even want --"

"I do!" she said, rather too quickly.

He gave her a stunned glance.

"It's just… I just _can't_…"

He ran his hand through his long hair. "I'm sorry," he sighed again.

"No, it's not your fault," she assured him once more, "It's just --"

Serenn looked at her - he could feel the presence of Skywalker between them now, holding them apart and keeping them apart. It made him a little angry; he didn't want anything to do with that boy anywhere near him, or anywhere near her, ever again. "Tell me," he implored.

Padmé drew her nightgown back over her knees and looked down. When she didn't say anything, Serenn exhaled deeply and said, "If you want me to go…?"

"No," she replied, "It's just difficult."

It must be, the Count resolved, for she still didn't speak. Chewing on his tongue, he eventually reached out to touch her shoulder and tried to comfort her. She looked back at him in turn and strained to communicate the anguish that this one secret was causing her.

"Look…" Dooku said, holding her gaze. "We're going to be here all night if you don't say something soon."

Now that he really looked at her, he could see that she appeared very frightened, and what little colour there had been in her face had completely drained. This scared him a little and he hence asked, more urgently, "Force, what is it?" Something wasn't right, he could sense it so clearly now, and yet she really didn't want to tell him about it. He knew that she knew that she needed to tell him, but she was finding it all a little too much.

"Serenn," she said, then went quiet.

He looked at her, watching a tear wend its way down from the corner of her eye, rolling over her cheek and onto her nightgown below. "Talk to me, Padmé," he whispered.

She nodded, looking back to the rug beneath her. She then felt the warmth of Serenn's body as he shifted round and sat right by her side. As his arm came over her shoulder, she bit into her lips and clutched at his hand. "I missed you," she suddenly professed. "I just missed you so much…"

"Likewise," he murmured, caressing her shoulder, before he then kissed her cheek solidly.

Padmé felt something in that kiss that was more than reminiscent of their passion a moment before, but it scared her this time. She knew that, whilst she was bound to Anakin, this couldn't be right; she couldn't string Serenn along like this and fall into that trap of desire without being candid with him.

"Serenn," she said at last. "I'm going to have a baby."

There was silence. The spirit of Skywalker had become triumphant, and the Count had been bested, and he didn't say anything; he just didn't say a word.

The atmosphere seemed to become quite cold, despite the fact the fire still raged in the hearth, and, after a while, Padmé couldn't bare the silence any longer, so she looked him in the eyes, hoping to gauge his reaction. He appeared somewhat strange to her, having an aura of regret and sorrow about his person; she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, or what it meant.

At long last, he met her gaze again, and asked, "You're pregnant?"

She nodded slowly.

He again looked away, his eyes darting everywhere except onto her. He still didn't say anything.

"Serenn, don't be like this," Padmé whispered.

He didn't look likely to take things calmly, though. His chest had soon started to rise and fall in rapid succession of itself, and his eyes had taken on that wild, distressed aura that she really hadn't wanted to see.

"Serenn," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off. Ouch.

Padmé hated this. It made her feel bad, and it wasn't her fault. If anything, all this was only a consequence of the chain of events that the Count had set into motion in the first place! Why should he be so surprised? "For the Force's sake, don't shut me out!" she said to him.

"Why not?" he retorted, his tone suddenly bitter. "I'm better off 'shut out', aren't I?"

"Stop being so childish."

"So I'm bloody childish now, am I?" he thundered. "What do you want from me, Padmé? What can I give you now that he hasn't?"

She found herself shaking her head slowly, "What is it with you? Has everything just meant nothing now that this has happened? You can't feel anything for me now? I'm just another tool? You saved me to cleanse your soul, but you won't help me to save mine…? Well, shut me out then, Count Dooku. Leave me alone in this dark void. Perhaps it's better that way."

Serenn gave her a look that was so reminiscent of Anakin it scared her; he just stared long and hard into her eyes, and she watched his face in return, seeing him think things over behind those harsh, chiselled features. He then did what Padmé thought was the worst possible thing - he just walked away in silence and left her there, alone in the dark.

She leaned back against one of the armchairs with a great sigh and propped her head up on her hands. That really hadn't gone well.

* * *

Serenn walked away as fast as he could. That was his problem - he always walked away, or talked his way out of things, or threw himself off buildings... Was it little wonder that no one except Yoda trusted him? He was too upset to think on this, though, so he just kept marching along, his eyes livid, until he tore out of a door onto the veranda that backed onto his manor, and there slumped down onto the flagstones, watching the moonlight flitter over the lake beyond like a fountain of glowing petals frolicking in the breeze. He couldn't shake this feeling, the terrible anger that was balled up in his chest, the deep rage and despair. He'd never felt anything like this before, and it surprised him. He was being so self-pitying right now that he hadn't even stopped to think about how Padmé was feeling, left back alone in the gloom, more than likely shocked and hurt by his outburst. 

He sighed deeply, and just stared out into the night, his eyes blank and his mind hollow. He felt like he had been betrayed, or something, and it pained him. His mind was soon interrupted, however, by the slow _tap-tap-tap_ of an approaching cane. He sighed inwardly, the angry knot in his chest tightening and twisting - Master Yoda was the last person he wanted the company of right now. Trust him to be out wandering this time of night, waiting for these things to happen.

Serenn ignored Yoda for as long as possible. He could sense the small Jedi's presence behind him as vividly as if he had been standing there, right before his eyes, but he knew Master Yoda wouldn't remain silent for long.

"So much pain are you in Serenn," Yoda said at last. "So much agony."

Dooku gritted his teeth together and remained silent, whilst a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Tell me about it, you should," Yoda insisted.

"Leave me alone, Master Yoda," Dooku snapped.

"Hmph. Pain you are in and help you need, but so proud are you. Always proud." Yoda seated himself by Serenn's side and prodded him in the ribs. "Too proud."

"Why did you bring me back, Master Yoda?" he murmured, "Why didn't you just leave me to die?"

"If intended to die you had, then dead already you would have been. Alive did you keep yourself. No intention to die had you yet."

Serenn wiped the tear from his face and looked away.

"Yes. Know the truth, you do," Yoda nodded, "Blame not Yoda for your good fortune. Blame yourself."

"You're not my master anymore. You can't keep lecturing me like this."

"No. But still master you call me. Still will I lend you my ear, my son. Still will I listen."

Dooku bit his lip as he felt Yoda's small, gnarled hand touch his arm, and he trembled, suppressing his rage and anguish.

"Speak to me, Serenn," Yoda went on.

The Count blinked hard and lowered his head, hanging it between his arms as he leant them across his raised knees. "It hurts, Master Yoda," he growled, his words and very body shaking. "It just hurts."

"Hmm. Feel your pain, I do."

"I can't cope."

"But cope you must. Not your concern it is."

"Not my concern?" he spat, looking at Yoda incredulously, his long hair seeming to give him an added frenzied look. "_Not my concern_?"

Yoda just looked back at him sadly.

"Tell me, _master_, why it isn't my concern?"

Yoda looked away, gripping his gimer stick and settling into a meditative manner. "Say nothing, I shall, until your problem you tell me."

Serenn scoffed. "You know my problem, or else you wouldn't be able to judge whether or not it was my concern!"

"Yes, but too easy would it be for you not to talk. On your part some effort is needed, so your problem you must tell me."

The Count growled and looked downwards, his dark eyes filled with a morose maelstrom.

"Hear you, I cannot, Serenn."

"Stop using my name."

Yoda laughed, chuckling as he often did at his own jokes. "Given to you for a reason, your name was. Why then can't Yoda use it? Must Yoda call you only 'Dooku'?" He laughed again, a sound which, at this moment, only grated on the Count's nerves. "Yoda likes that not."

"Shut up, master!" Serenn yelled, shooting to his feet and throwing his metal fist into the wall. "For once just shut up! You've got no idea how I'm feeling right now, you've just got no idea! You don't know the torment of the dark side, the pull of passion - you just can't help me!"

Yoda shook his head as he watched fragments of brick patter to the floor. "So much pain, so much anger, and so much puerility. Why can you not just talk to me, my son?"

"I'm not your blasted son," Serenn growled on, "I'm not your Padawan, I'm not a child and I'm no Jedi! Not any more…" His eyes were wild as he looked at Yoda. "Have you seen what I've done, master, since I left you? Have you seen the destruction I've wrought? The lives I have destroyed? The planets I have wiped out? Are you proud, master? Are you proud of what your 'son' has done?"

Yoda still only watched him with a calm and thoughtful look, and thus only infuriated Dooku further. The Count felt his chest burn with wrath, but he could do nothing in the end except let his anger collapse in on itself, and his eyes were, by then, blazing with tears. Yoda was thus satisfied that his old Padawan had burned himself out, so he finally spoke again; "Now your problems, tell me, old friend."

Serenn was reluctant to speak to him any more. He felt uncomfortable after his outburst.

"Love," Yoda said to start things off, "Mysterious is this emotion. It brings so much pain and suffering, yet so much glee and happiness can it also bring. Hmm… strange it is, indeed."

Serenn eyed him warily.

"Yes, a dangerous emotion it is. And embraced it, you have." Yoda's green eyes focused on Dooku and, by that alone, he managed to draw his old Padawan back to sit by his side. "Speak to me, Serenn" he asked as Dooku settled down again on the flagstones. "Talk about it."

Serenn sighed deeply. "I… I _hurt_ her, master," he muttered. "I keep seeing it over and over, everything I did. And I can't believe it was me…"

Yoda's eyes closed again - Serenn was finally ready to talk, but he was starting with the past, and with his most heinous of crimes, something he needed to get off his chest to someone who would listen and help him.

"I used her," Dooku went on, thinking back to that first night with Padmé, "I--" He breathed heavily, a look of realisation on his face, as though the thought had only just now come to him. "I can see her as clearly as I see you now," he whispered, "There she was, upset, alone, and in a strange place with a strange man, and I--"

'_Forgive me, my dear, I have no intention of intimidating you'_

He stared downward, brow creasing in horror. "I…"

'_Perhaps I can help you sleep…'_

He shook his head. "She was so distraught, so afraid, and I…" He blinked, unable to quite comprehend it all. "I took advantage of that."

'_We're not frightened of the old Count, are we?'_

"Why? Why did I do it…?"

'_Give yourself to me'_

Yoda's lips pursed then loosened and he peered out at Dooku from under his half-closed eyelids. "The past that is, Serenn. Much pain did you cause, much terror. Hurt an innocent woman you did."

"Woman?" he scoffed sourly, "Woman? Master, she was barely more than a _girl_!"

Yoda gave him a sharp glare. "Knew that, you did."

Serenn stared at him, and his face paled - of course he had known it, but he had never felt as bad about it as he did now, as he heard his old mentor, Master Yoda, say that to him. He suddenly felt sick and his hands were shaking.

"But realised your errors you have," Yoda added.

"It's rather too late," Serenn whispered, wiping his eyes.

"Yes, too late. Far too late… But now, tell me what pains you now, in the present."

Dooku thought for a moment, then murmured, "I…"

"Hmm? Speak up! Old ears, are mine. Not everything can they hear."

Serenn gave Yoda a slight frown, finding his humour ill-timed, before he then looked up at the sky to collect his thoughts, a great blanket of black imprinted with many small, tiny, sparkling dots, each and every one of them a system, which would each be filled with planets, and each of them perhaps covered with life. And yet, all that was so insignificant right now; they were just specks in the distance… Nothing more.

"She's pregnant, master," he finally said.

"Hmm," Yoda nodded, as if he already knew, "New life, it always comes."

"It hurts, master."

"Not in control, are you. Never liked this, has Serenn Dooku. No, never liked lack of control." Yoda looked at him hard. "Tell me why hurts so much, this does."

Serenn shrugged, looking at a rare loss for words. "The very notion causes me pain. I never thought, I just never _thought_--"

"That another she would find? That not yours she is?"

Serenn's eyes darted onto him, as though Yoda had again managed to hit a nerve.

Yoda nodded austerely. "Yes. Possession, another dangerous emotion that is. And succumbed to it you have. See you now why, to a Jedi, possession is denied? Hmm?"

Dooku's larynx bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He did not break Yoda's stare.

"Yours Senator Amidala is not. Her own person, she is. Her own spirit with her own free will. Why choose to disregard this, do you?"

"I don't, master!"

"Yet still full of pain, are you?"

"_Yes_, master."

"Love her, you do! Too harshly, too passionately and too possessively. Your own fault this is."

"I bloody well know, Master Yoda!" he snarled.

"Your child she _does not _carry. Come to terms with this, you must."

"I can't, master! Tell me what to do. I can't get rid of this anger, this rage, this--"

"Displacement."

Serenn's chest rose up and down and he swallowed again. Yoda always did this to him, made him come out with everything, and then some, in the end. He wished he wouldn't. "Yes," he acquiesced quietly, "And that…"

Yoda nodded, grunting shrewdly. "Hurt her you have. Tortured and destroyed her. Yet forgive you she does." He looked sternly at Dooku. "Unusual this is, but a little of the Force is there in her. Understand she does that not the same person are you as were you before." He pointed at his old protégé. "Grateful for this alone you should be. Your support and your goodwill does she deserve now, that more than anything else. Cast aside your jealousy, cast aside your anger, and give her your friendship." He looked away again and closed his eyes. "Not so petty should you be. And only twice as bad would you have reacted if your child she carried."

Serenn looked at him dourly. "Perhaps…" he murmured.

"Hmm. Not impossible… just improbable. Better this way it is. No need is there for you to make that mistake again. Not so late in life."

Dooku gave Yoda one final glare before he got to his feet, kicked the wall behind him, and slowly began to walk away.

"And more clothes you should wear!" Yoda nagged at him, "Cold out here it is, and there you sit with no shirt. Stupid boy, always stupid. Want a chill, do you?"

"It might do me some good, master," Serenn snarled after him, before he went back inside.

Yoda allowed himself a smirk - some of his students never did grow up.

* * *

Padmé rubbed her eyes. She hadn't expected Dooku to turn on her like that, to go so crazy and to be so callous. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but still, surely a man of his rational and his intellect would have reacted better? Surely a 'noble aristocrat' didn't customarily deal with things in that way? 

But he wasn't plain Dooku anymore, was he? He had changed. He couldn't look at things from beneath those black, bushy brows as he had once before. He had been greatly altered by his deeds and experiences and she couldn't expect him to view things with the same distance and reserve as he had at the very beginning.

She was wandering aimlessly around the corridors of this manor now, trying to find her way back to her room again. She hated this place - it was a frightful labyrinth - and she went on turning corner after corner, seeking for a sign of something she recognised, but she couldn't find anything. All the corridors looked the same. She huffed to herself after a while, standing still at a junction in the halls and folding her arms.

Then suddenly she yelped as her arm was taken from behind and she was hurried along down a passage. When she turned to look at the person, it was Serenn again, but he didn't say anything. He just led her along without a word, guiding her effortlessly to the stairs that she had failed to find before, then up onto the landing, and finally along to her room. (Or what had been his room, but was now her room.) He then walked her in, closed the door behind them, and sat her down on the bed.

She looked at him in surprise, her brow creasing. She didn't know how to react to him, or how to talk to him - he had withdrawn into that unpredictable and explosive area of his personality which scared her more than she cared to admit. She had rather hoped that he had left this facet of his character back in the past, but he clearly hadn't.

Before the Count spoke, he first dropped to his knees in front of her again, and Padmé prayed that he wasn't going to pull his 'sabre out on himself and repeat his scene from earlier. Thankfully, he didn't - he just looked straight into her eyes, and whispered, at last, "I'm sorry."

She continued to stare at him, still dubious.

"I…" he murmured, before he reached out and stroked her arm, "I just can't cope. I…" He swallowed. "It's difficult for me, Padmé. I know I'm acting odd and like a harebrained youth, but I really don't know who I am any more."

She studied him for a while before she was satisfied he had come back to his senses, and she then placed a hand over his as he touched her arm. "It's all right," she whispered, despite everything.

"But it isn't," he countered frankly, "It shouldn't be. You know that."

"I confess that I thought a Count of Serenno might react a little more coolly than you did," she said with a faint smile.

He exhaled noisily, staring at her. "This Count would have if he was still the Count Dooku of the separatist movement, but he isn't. The woman this Count loves is sat there, right in front of him" - and he pointed to her - "with another man's child growing in her womb, and this Count doesn't know how to deal with it. This Count has also just had his ear bent by his old mentor and he feels downright low about everything." He sighed and looked down at the carpet, then back up at her. "This Count almost certainly needs to talk to you."

She smiled at him - she couldn't help it. Though he was clearly a bit tense, he wasn't as wound-up as before, and his sense of humour was shining back through a little, which could only be a good sign. "Then would this Count oblige me by getting off his knees?"

He smirked. "I rather thought you liked me kneeling before you."

"I do, but it doesn't suit you."

He shrugged and got up, before, at her invitation, he sat by her side, on the edge of the mattress.

"What else do you want to talk about?" she asked him.

He paused for a moment then said, "Padmé, Master Yoda has just highlighted something rather significant to me, and I want to know now, if you can tell me, why it is that you have forgiven me?"

She watched a stray strand of his hair swing gently in front of his eyes and she reached up, moving it aside. "Because I can tell when someone's changed," she said quietly, looking back into his eyes once she had placed the strand behind his ear. "Because I can tell when you've come back from the darkness."

He shook his head, clearly astounded by her disposition. "And why do you want to think that? How can you believe that I have?"

"Because I… Oh, I don't know. I have feelings for you, though I'm not sure what they are, but… well, I suppose --" She halted abruptly and swallowed, unsure whether or not it was wise to go on.

Serenn waited on her. "And what?" he asked.

She looked into his eyes and said timidly, "I just have to hope. I have to believe that he can come back, too."

Serenn felt his pride dented a little and he glanced away. "Skywalker…?" he murmured.

Padmé nodded, placing her hand on his arm and rubbing it softly. "Yes. I have to hope that he'll follow your path and come back to us… come back to me."

The Count swallowed and stared at his metallic limb; everything about him oozed a symmetry with Skywalker, and he was more like the boy than he wanted to admit. As he heard Padmé speak of him, and about all her hopes and fears, he could feel nothing but terribly uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure who came first for Padmé. Naturally, it should be Anakin, and, from what she had said, one would be led to believe that it was, yet he liked to think he had a place in her heart, too. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he just loved her so badly, and the thought of _not_ being with her ever again… it was suffocating. She had been his reason for living, and if she shunned him, he wasn't sure what the point of his life was. He couldn't help but think that he meant something to her - surely the affection she had shown him on occasions was more than just friendliness on her part, and surely their earlier jaunt on the sitting room floor hadn't been a mere trivial thing?

"Padmé, can you tell me where I rank in your mind?" he asked, "because I'm not sure myself." He looked at her then and studied her eyes, to see how she was reacting. She looked quite horrified by this request, as if she was quite unable, or just unwilling, to answer. He felt a bit contrite about this, about putting her on the spot, but he needed to know. "I love you," he elaborated, "But I'm confused..."

Padmé was taken aback by what he was saying, but the thing that shocked her most of all was the way he had hit on exactly the same dilemma she had been mulling over earlier, of what it was that Serenn meant to her; he resided in a problematic space of her mind, and she couldn't quite decide what it was she wanted him to be, or to become.

To make matters worse, he then murmured, "If you're suffering as much as I am…"

Padmé's eyes couldn't shoot onto him quick enough - those words, those exact damn words, and he had said them!

'_If you're suffering as much as I am, please tell me.'_

'_I can't… We can't… it's just not possible.'_

'_Anything is possible, Padmé, listen to me.'_

'_No, _you _listen! We live in a real world. Come back to it…'_

"Padmé?"

She blinked and looked at him, saying, "I' sorry, it's just you said the same thing…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Anakin," she explained, "He said that exact same thing, those exact words to me, before we… we…" She lost her voice, and licked her lip. "It's just all like a vicious circle that I can't get out of, a ride I can't get off. It's all happening all over again."

"Is it?"

She shook her head. "Oh, I just don't know…"

Serenn could see her discomfort at the present so he placed his hand upon her shoulder and gave it a rub. "Just tell me what I am to you, then I'll go," he said. He didn't demand to be violently loved, or to possess her absolutely, or for her to marry him - he didn't want any of that - he just wanted a plain acknowledgment of where he stood with her. He needed to know where his boundaries now lay. "That's all I need to know," he added. "It's all I want to know."

"I can't tell you," she said, "Because I don't know. I'm not sure how you expect me to answer when so much has happened between us, and you've shown me so many faces. How can I begin to know which Serenn is mine and which is the real you? They might not be the same thing."

"'Your Serenn'?" he muttered, his lips flickering into a slight smile.

She smiled a little back at him. "Stop it," she sighed.

"Look," he explained, "I didn't save you for me. I saved you for the love of you, because I cared for you, and because I owed it to you."

"I know that," she answered. "I just… don't know what you are to me."

He sighed once more and thought that enough was enough for one night, so patted her on the knee and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I think it's best that I go now, don't you? You still need your rest."

Padmé seemed to tense a little again when he said this. She wasn't sure that she wanted to be alone, and she was still filled by a number of unanswered questions and strange feelings. "Serenn?" she asked.

For some reason, the Count found the way she said his name somewhat sensuous. It was just the way her lips moved over both the syllables and how her tongue rippled behind her white teeth; he had the strange urge to ask her to say it again. "Yes?" he asked.

She looked down and licked her lip, her small fingers toying with one another, before her eyes stared pensively at his face and then took in his chest, abdomen and his legs.

The Count felt a little perturbed, recognising the signs, and knowing that they should both be more careful before they stepped willingly into this territory again. And yet, alas, he was just far too enthralled by it all to care too much. "What?" he asked her again at length.

She looked once more into his eyes, but she didn't need to say anything. He saw it all there, shining within those gentle orbs. She was lost - her entire world had been turned upside-down, and now she felt that he was all she had left. She had no purpose in life since the Republic she'd fought for was dead, and the man she thought had loved her had betrayed her viciously.

The Count emitted a soft sigh and sat down by her side again. "Easy there," he said, touching her cheek with his left hand and tilting her countenance up to face his again. "Relax, it's all right. You're safe."

She looked around the room, as though to check for sure, before she then returned her eyes to his. "I can't bear it, Serenn," she confessed, opening her heart to him, "I feel like my soul's been torn out and I'm shrivelling up inside."

Padmé then jumped a little as she felt him touch her lower abdomen, where her womb would be. "Are you sure this isn't responsible?" he softly asked her, though she could hear the slight bitter edge to his tone, the envy and the resentment.

She cast it aside and merely shook her head, managing to laugh a little. "No, this is different," she said. She placed her hands flat on his breast and ran them in steady circles there, marvelling at the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands. When he sighed a little in response, though, she recoiled, as if embarrassed and afraid of these feelings, of these acts of which she had little or no experience; love had been forced on her ruthlessly before, but now that she felt so lost, so run down and deceived, it was really the one thing she could do with experiencing - yet how could she even begin to trust anyone to give it to her?

"Relax a bit," Serenn murmured, his voice smooth and velvety as he placed his hands onto her shoulders and rubbed them, "You've been through a lot… you need time to get over it all."

She closed her eyes with a gentle sigh and felt her body tremble with something that she didn't want to think about. Then, at his tacit behest, she lay down and drew her legs onto the bed, reclining flat out on her back, and tried to settle down.

He sat by her side and stroked her hair out over the pillows. "There now," he whispered to her.

Her hands gripped the blankets beneath her and she stared into the dark corners of the room, still unable to fully relax. "I'm afraid," she confessed, "Afraid of the future. I was so happy to be free, but now… I just don't know." She rolled over to look him in the face. "Am I even free?"

He frowned and ran his finger down the side of her face. "I can't tell you," he whispered. "I just don't know." He looked down her body and then ran his hand over her abdomen slowly. "You need to tell the others about this child of yours," he said. "As soon as possible."

She didn't like how he had said that for some reason, but she didn't put up a fight. She couldn't be bothered to. She did like the feel of his hand on her body, though.

"It's not just that," she confessed, tapping her fingers along the metal edge of his arm, "I'm afraid of my feelings as well."

He looked into her eyes whilst she played a tune on his artificial limb."Of what feelings?" he asked.

She sighed, then clenched her hand into a fist and knocked that, gently, against his arm. It resonated strangely. "I'm afraid," she said again. "Every time I've believed myself to be 'in love', or I've trusted someone, I've been deceived, and I… I just can't bring myself to feel… to feel--"

"Safe?" he interposed.

"Yes," she nodded, swallowing as his fingers came back up to rub her cheek.

"I won't hurt you," he assured her, stroking her cheek up and down. "Never, ever again."

She looked into his eyes and she could see there, not lust, but caring, and she found that she did trust him completely; he wasn't manipulating her feelings like he once had, he wasn't forcing anything onto her - he was just being honest.

Padmé leant up toward him and stared at his beard for a moment, then lightly touched his face, before asking shyly, "Can it just feel good?"

He looked at her curiously, his brow knitting.

"Because it never has…" she forced herself on, flushing a little, "Not for me. It's only hurt."

He looked away, swallowing, but didn't say anything. Her words had sent a thrill through his body, and he had an uncanny feeling that she were actually seducing him.

Suddenly, Padmé had closed the gap between them and kissed him, hesitantly, on the cheek. This broke him out of his reverie almost immediately and he turned to look at her in silence. She looked at him warily, yet he could see, alongside this, that other part of Padmé, that insecure part, that was just holding her arms out to him and asking for his love. Perhaps he could never cure her, or cleanse her of his filth, but he could do something to alleviate her pains. She trusted him, and she was entreating him to relieve her.

Steadily, just making sure that he hadn't got the wrong message, he lightly pressed his lips against hers. As soon as she embraced him in return he knew that he had not been mistaken, and he thus had no qualms in reaching for her and holding her tightly whilst he bestowed upon her a long, tender kiss.

Padmé clutched at him in turn, and brushed her lips against his, feeling the heady yet innocent sensation of an honest kiss. She was actually feeling good about this, this situation where she'd normally suffer both fear and dread, because she could feel, for the first time, the sincere effects of love. And yet it was more than just that because she felt, in turn, that she was also somewhat helping Serenn - there was no doubt that he needed this, too - and that made it all the more significant; it was mutual and special.

_Hypothetically, Dooku's life was now in her hands_

She felt her back slowly come down to touch the mattress again, before Serenn settled gently, almost coyly, on top of her. Perhaps it was wrong, but it felt far too right for that; she wanted to be loved, she needed to be loved, and now, at long last, she was.

**TBC…**

**NB: **Sounds like and ending, doesn't it:) Not yet, I'm afraid.


	48. The Omen

**Author's Notes:** Erm… I think I've got a writing bug, because these chapters are getting _loooong_. On a side note, the start of this chapter is kinda inspired by an episode in my old "Dark Lady…" fanfic; if I ever get round to rewriting that, then you'll recognise which chapter it's like immediately (in fact, all the uncivilised planet thing was a throw-back to my "Dark Lady…" story, too). And I'm not sure that some of this chapter is written that well. It'll do for now - I might just be in a self-criticising mood - but some bits just don't seem to read very well to me, at least not as well as I'd like.

Anyway, that aside, I must offer you all my sincerest apologies because I'm not going to get this story done before RotS, if you haven't already guessed - I'd be rushing it if I tried to finish it within the next twenty-four hours (eep!), and I'd rather not do that. I've just been at work too much, and can't write this story to the standard I want in such a short space of time. I just want you all to have fun at the cinema with "Revenge" - I'm sure I will, despite Dook's early departure - and I'll try my best to be finished within the next couple of weeks. :) MTFBWY, always!

**Cael:** Thanks for all your BIG reviews. I must confess, I'm no Padmé fan - I only originally used the poor girl because she was the only character I _could _use against Dooku in this story. I like her a bit better now, though, because I've kinda got to know her. :) Or at least my version of Padmé.

**Padawanmage:** Erm… what haven't I said in our emails? Oh, er…hmm… well, just thanks for the ever-helpful reviews!

**Queeny:** Can you imagine what the fan circuit would think, though, if Padmé and Dook' suddenly ended up together on-screen? Uh-oh… ;) Heh.

**Cmdr. Gabe.E.:** You give my story too much cred'. I'm glad you like it so much!

**Kynstar:** Wow, thanks. :) I can't tell you how much your review made me smile. And as to the Count's end in this story, you might need the tissues…

**Silverwolf47:** Sorry I'm not done in time for RotS. I tried. :) But I have updated.

**REV042175:** Again, my thanks. I'm glad you find my writing convincing and all.

**HRHpadmeamidala:** Where'd you find out about Dook's name? Not that I'm gonna change mine now… I like Serenn too much. :)

**Tutleninja:** I like twisted. Obviously.

* * *

**Part 48 - The Omen**

It was quiet in the room, quiet and dark. Something was wrong.

Serenn couldn't remember how he had gotten here, or even where here _was_, he only knew that he was here now. He was stood beneath a hazy shower of light, which came from some unidentifiable source above, and all around him was simply obscured by darkness.

He felt a terrible sensation of foreboding crawl down his spine and he looked about himself fretfully. "Padmé?" he called out. His voice only echoed back to him in slow, droning tenors. He was alone in the dark.

He began to panic and turned rapidly this way and that, his hand reaching for his lightsabre as he began to feel only more and more uncomfortable. "Padmé!" he called again, the red blade bursting to life before him. Where was he? What was going on? He was so afraid. He hadn't felt like this for a long time, but he knew that something bad was about to happen. Or, more likely, already had.

Suddenly, he heard a noise from the depths of the gloom behind him. He turned and peered into the thick blackness there, but could see nothing, so he just listened on carefully. After a long, agonising pause, where nothing happened and not the slightest particle moved, his ears finally picked up on the mystery sound again. He listened and then relaxed a little - he knew what that was. It was an infant crying. He had nothing to fear from a baby, surely? And yet he couldn't get rid of this feeling of unease.

Hooking his lightsabre back by his hip, the Count walked forward in the direction of the wailing, and he eventually came upon a cot, bathed in the same pale light as that which was following him. As he peered over the edge of the crib, he saw a child lay there, naked, a tiny, little baby boy.

The Count looked at the baby and could see that the child was in distress, and yet - and he didn't even feel guilty about this - he had absolutely no inclination of reaching down to pick him up.

Before Serenn could think any further on this, though, the cries of another child burst forth from behind him. Wheeling about, the Count saw yet another cot, placed not far off, and also bathed in a pale shimmer of light. He could swear that it hadn't been there before - he would have noticed it - but, in this ethereal place, he expected that anything could happen.

Serenn paced slowly across to look into this crib, feeling, for some reason, more nervous about seeing this child than he had the last. As he bent his head down to peer into the cradle, he saw yet another baby, but this time it was a little girl. This one, like the last, was crying wildly, and her tiny little hands reached out into the air above her, seeking for her absent mother.

The Count felt a great sensation of pity for this baby and had no qualms whatsoever about picking her up. He reached down and took the girl's tiny body up between his hands, then cradled her in the very crook of his arm. Once she settled there he rocked her gently and tried to soothe her, running his metal fingers over her brow and tickling her little belly. She seemed to calm almost instantly and her face broke into a glorious smile whilst she kicked her little legs about in glee.

He smiled back at the child. How he wished he could go back in time and experience all this normality, all this that had been taken from him… plain, simple fatherhood. It seemed unfair that he had been denied all this.

The little boy, meanwhile, was still crying, but Serenn hardly noticed as this dark-eyed beauty captivated him.

The atmosphere then suddenly made a great lurch and became conceivably different. Serenn looked up from the child as he felt a shiver traverse his spine and, for some reason unbeknownst to him, his eyes were drawn to the floor. He looked down and thus caught a

glimmer of something from out of the corner of his eye - it was a drop of blood.

The Count stared at this for a moment, his brow furrowing. This wasn't right at all…

He kept a firm hold of the bonny girl before, plucking up the courage, he tentatively walked over to inspect the red substance. As he got closer to it, however, the darkness lifted a little to show that there was not just a drop of blood on the floor, but a whole, sinister red trail.

His heart filled with coldness and the girl in his arms became instantly quiet and still, as though she could feel his fear and sense his unease.

Rubbing the child's body with his thumb, Serenn swallowed and followed the scarlet path, his heart beating ever the faster the further along the trail he went. As he got only the more tense, the baby girl seemed to get more tense as well, and Serenn could feel her tiny little hands clutch at his long hair and hold on to it tight, as if for comfort. He continued to only find pool after pool of blood, and each larger than the last one, serving to only make his apprehensions become more and more profound. What was this…?

Once he reached the end, though, he felt his stomach drop. His worst fears were all but confirmed and he could do nothing but halt abruptly and stare down in horror. There was a slender body of a woman on the floor, her face hidden beneath waves of long brown hair, and her body draped in a simple white gown. A great wash of thick, crimson blood was pooled beneath her.

Serenn walked over to the body and crouched by its side, balancing the baby in the crook of his arm so that he could reach out with his metal hand and roll the body over. When he then looked into the woman's face, it was with the deepest dismay; "Padmé…" he whispered.

Despite all appearances, she was yet alive. Her skin was pale and clammy and her life was ebbing away, yet she still had the strength enough to open her eyes and to see the child, her child, in the Count's arms. She subsequently gave him a final, sad smile and said, "Thank you, Serenn." And then, she was gone…

And thus, as if hit by lightning, Serenn shot up in bed and realised that it had been a dream. He felt disorientated at first, unable to work out where he was or what had recently transpired, until, as the sights, sounds and smells around him sunk in, reality filtered back and he remembered everything.

Wiping his forehead, he swung his legs over the bedside and bent down over his knees, running his fingers through his hair and trying to force down the sudden feeling of nausea in his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of it, of Padmé dying amidst so much blood. He couldn't allow it to happen.

But what did it mean, to dream of her death? And those two children, what had they represented? "Two…" he pondered to himself, rubbing his beard. Had they both been Padmé's? He didn't understand. He had a terrible feeling about all this, though, and it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. It all felt far too much like a premonition, and he just couldn't persuade himself that it had been nothing more than a nightmare, and thus had no consequence.

Slowly, the film of cold sweat evaporated from his body and cooled him until he began to shudder in the chill of the morn. With another sigh, he got up and walked to the window, and from there stared out over the panorama beyond, knocking his metallic knuckle against the windowsill as he thought on all this. The sky outside was grey and a violent wind sent the grasses in the fields hurling this way and that, tumbling into one another like figures trembling in panic. The waters of the lake were also restless, being chased all over the place to the haphazard pleasure of the wind. All this natural turmoil did nothing to calm the Count's recently unsettled stomach, so he turned away from the scene to look back across at Padmé as she lay in bed. She was still asleep and blissfully unaware of everything he had just seen in his dreams, for which he was thankful; in fact, he was in half a mind not to tell her about it at all.

And yet, he had just forged for good a bond of trust between them. Perhaps it was now his obligation to tell her…?

He sighed again and just watched her for some time, her face a glorious picture in the hazy light of the morning as she lay there, with one hand arched back over her head, and the other resting on the blankets, over her belly. He knew he shouldn't be here, and yet he knew as well as any that it took two.

He might happily have stood there all day, but he couldn't forget the reason why he was back here on Serenno; he had things to do, and people to see. Besides, he was sure that Mrs. Tarso would be in all a fluster looking for him, wondering which sofa he had slept on last night. He couldn't help but smirk to himself; that poor woman… She would be searching for a long time unless he made sure to find her first.

Taking one final look at Padmé, he paced into the _en suite_ 'fresher room and quickly prepared himself for the day ahead; he had quite forgotten that he was in his own chambers, so he had everything at his disposal. By the time he was dressed and ready, he returned to find Padmé still asleep. He had the desire to just leave her there to rest, but he knew that many things were to be resolved today by the revolution's figureheads, and Padmé needed to be informed about it all. He therefore walked back to the bedside and leant over the young woman, kissing her forehead and whispering, "Rise and shine, my dear."

Padmé stirred at his touch and groaned, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. When she then opened them and saw him, she smiled and reached up to him, reminding Serenn uncannily of the baby girl of his dreams, seeking her mother. He consequently hesitated a moment before he bent down and let her embrace him. "Come on now," he then said, prying her away from him. "Time to get up."

She released him and sat up in bed, wiping her eyes a little more.

He watched her carefully and then suddenly felt concern niggle at his innards, a sensation of doubt toward her and her feelings following last night; "Are you all right?" he asked, sitting on the bed by her side.

She looked him up and down with another smile and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine."

He was quite relieved to hear this, but said, "I just feel a bit… guilty."

"Guilty?" she asked quietly. "Why?"

He stared at his hands between his knees. "Because of what I've done before… and because you're pregnant."

The Count then glanced over at Padmé and his stare penetrated her to her very soul. "And--" he stuttered.

She felt her brow furrow and she placed her hand on his arm. "What?"

Serenn looked down at her hand and rubbed it affectionately, but continued to remain silent. The aura felt a little uneasy, and it only got more so as the silence drew on.

"Padmé," Serenn then murmured at last, "I'm worried about you. I've just got a really bad feeling about this."

"A bad feeling? About what?" she asked.

When he turned to her, he kept his eyes locked on hers, but moved his hand to her belly, making her jump as she felt him press it firmly against her skin, where her baby would be growing. "About your child," he whispered.

She looked at him hard, studying his face intently. She was trying to get beneath the façade, beneath the barrier that his visage presented, but at this moment in time, she could not. "Why?" she thus asked.

"I…" He sighed and turned away again and mulled things over for a moment longer, before he confessed; "I had another nightmare last night. I'd hoped that I wouldn't, but I did… I saw you in pain, in great pain, and I--" He swallowed hard and just shook his head. "I can't shake this terrible feeling that something bad's going to happen to you…"

Padmé's fingers slid off his arm and she looked away into a corner of the room. "I'll be okay…" she murmured. "And, besides," she added, looking back at him with a smile, "you'll be here with me, won't you?"

His eyes rose to meet hers and he frowned. "'With you'?" he asked.

Padmé's smile dropped. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction at all, so it was no surprise that, just when she was beginning to feel safe, she now felt vulnerable again. "You _will _be here for me, won't you?" she pressed on, suddenly anxious, "You're not going anywhere…?"

Serenn cupped her cheek in his hand and looked at her sadly, smiling a little. "I don't know," he professed. "I still have debts to pay, Padmé; I owe a lot to the peoples of this galaxy."

The colour drained from her face a little when he said this. "But what more do you need to do?" she whispered, holding his hand to her face with her own.

He gave her a long, lingering look and slowly drew his hand away. "The Emperor has one final stage in his plan, after he has wiped out the Jedi. He plans to build a battle station, a giant one, that will have the power to crush cities, maybe even planets… It is this plan that I need to stop as soon as possible. If I can retrieve the plans, great. If not, then I need to try to stop them. I believe that this shall be my next task. My last task."

Padmé's gaze on him tightened. "But how do you know about these plans?" she asked.

He looked away. "Because I commissioned them."

Padmé closed her eyes in horror. "Oh, Serenn…" she sighed. "You have made such a _mess _of things."

"I know," he grimly concurred. "I'm just trying to fix some of my mistakes."

"You can't fix everything," she whispered.

He looked at her for another moment before he kissed her lovingly on her forehead and said, "I know, my dear." He then got to his feet and pulled his hair back behind his head, searching for something to tie it back with. "I believe Bail Organa is arriving soon, then we should be having a meeting to discuss all this." He fumbled about through some drawers, looking under and around everything. "At least it seems to have boosted the general moral, having you back - as far as I can tell, anyway."

Padmé smirked a little. "Well I should hope I boosted your moral."

He laughed pleasantly at that, a sound that Padmé liked very much, and he then finally found an elastic band, so quickly tied his hair back into a ponytail. He then turned to look at her again and they stared at one another for a moment; things were still a bit awkward and a bit unresolved between them, and they were both unsure of where to go from here. Padmé just determined, in the end, to slip out of bed and embrace him. And he held her close in return.

He thought on things for another moment before he murmured, "Padmé, does Palpatine know?"

Padmé swallowed and rubbed her fingers over the folds of his clothes, images flashing before her eyes of the Sith Master and the moment he placed his hand upon her womb and sought the life within. She closed her eyes with a shudder. "Yes. And Anakin knows," she whispered.

Serenn inhaled deeply. "I presume that they will want to find you again… Especially Lord Sidious. He's always on the look out for his next protégé," he said.

Padmé tensed again. "Well, you've hit the nail on the head," she whispered.

"Am I right?" he persisted.

"Yes," she sighed, burying her head into his chest. "I'm so afraid. I don't want him or Anakin to take my boy away."

"'Boy'?" he asked, "I can hardly see the curve of your belly - I can hardly sense that little life at all - yet you think it's a boy?"

"I don't know," Padmé confessed, turning away from him and standing alone. "It was the Emperor who said it. And he apparently knows everything." She bit her lip and leant her head into her hand, trying to dispel the memories.

Serenn picked up on this and he immediately stiffened. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Did Palpatine hurt you?"

She hesitated before she confessed quietly, "A little."

Serenn looked very serious and a little angry. This was his fault, it was all his fault…

Padmé turned back to him and stroked his arm with the back of her hand. "I wish you'd stop bringing up all these things I want to forget..."

He looked at her and offered her a small smile. "Forgive me, my lady. I just…" He shook his head, and left the sentence open, whereupon Padmé wrapped her arms round him again and he clasped her into him in return.

* * *

Bail Organa arrived on Serenno this same morning, his ship braving the high winds and gliding a little less than smoothly into the manor's hangar. Though he had been loath to admit it, this planet had proved to be the perfect place for the newborn rebellion to hide itself. There was nothing on Serenno to interest the Empire - it had bowed to its will as easily as it had so recently bowed to the Confederacy's - and, with the Count presumed dead, no one was about to rank his old family manor, in the middle of nowhere, as a place of any importance. The Empire had more pressing matters to deal with right now.

Bail was none too happy about being here, however. He hadn't exchanged a single word with Count Dooku since Master Yoda had rescued him, and he hadn't really planned on starting now; it was, in his opinion, both ironic and infuriating that one of the main coordinators of the whole intergalactic conflicts, a man who had served at Darth Sidious's side, no less, was now assisting them in their attempts to overthrow the Empire he had helped put into place. Bail had never been a fan of Dooku as it was - he believed that one could see trouble brewing constantly in his eyes - but he had Yoda's assurance that the Count was vital to their objectives, and he could do nothing but defer to Yoda's word.

Still, he couldn't help but feel uneasy - it might be true that Dooku would now be a source of inside information, and with him being such a powerful warrior, it was safer to have him on your side rather than on the opposing one, but who could seriously assure them that he wouldn't fail their cause if things ever got desperate, or if the Emperor rediscovered him and made him an irresistible offer? After the Count had made perhaps the biggest possible betrayal to the Republic, Bail didn't find the notion of him making another too farfetched.

All this negativity aside, at least Yoda's second mission to Coruscant had come off somewhat successfully. He had heard that the Emperor had taken a blow and Padmé was back with them, though he professed that he didn't know all the details; he was hoping to learn all about that today. Nevertheless, he only felt partially heartened by this news; he had a bad feeling that Yoda's mission, however necessary, might have only served to put them in more danger than they needed. The Emperor would now know, at least, that Padmé was out there, as well as that Master Yoda was alive and kicking, but what concerned Bail most was the fact that Palpatine might have realised that a revolution was already beginning to brew beneath the shroud of his mighty Empire. And the Emperor would like none of this.

Organa pondered over all this as he walked down the ramp from his ship into the hangar of Dooku's mansion to be met by Obi-Wan Kenobi, who next greeted him with his typical Jedi bow. "Nice to see you again, Bail," he said. "I trust your journey was smooth?"

Bail nodded. "Thankfully, yes." He looked round the small hangar with an approving nod, "And I presume your relocation here went well, too?"

"Yes," Obi replied as he and the senator turned toward the exit. "Everyone's housed and at ease. We have plenty of room for training out here, across the grounds, and there's a great communication suite underground. Dooku wasn't half set up here during his time as a separatist."

Bail pursed his lips. "Yes, I bet he was." He exchanged an uneasy glance with Kenobi then said, "I'm sorry to be pessimistic about things, Master Kenobi, but I've got a very bad feeling about this man."

Obi nodded as if he, too, shared that sentiment. "Things haven't been easy for me either," he confessed. Though Kenobi hadn't spent much time with Dooku since the latter's rescue, relations between them both were a bit taut, which was only to be expected after their confrontation during the early Clone Wars. Regardless of all this, Obi had helped Master Yoda to heal the Count, even if that had been more for Master Yoda's benefit than for Dooku's. The thing was that Obi-Wan, like Bail, just couldn't shake his own feelings of mistrust toward the man, even now; as far as he was concerned, Dooku had double-crossed them all, and he didn't feel inclined to forgive and forget that.

One thing that did surprise Obi-Wan, therefore, was the clemency that Padmé showed toward Dooku - in fact, he was more than surprised; he was frankly astounded. She had been betrayed far more than anyone else under this roof, and yet she had been, and continued to be, so merciful. It was little wonder that the Naboo had loved her so much if her disposition had been one of such lenience and kindness, though whether she was actually wise was another thing altogether.

"And how is Padmé doing?" Bail asked as if he sensed Kenobi's very thoughts. "I look forward to seeing her again."

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. "She seems quite well," he said, "though she's undoubtedly got a lot on her mind." He paused for a moment. "She's a strong young lady," he remarked, "there's no doubt about that."

Bail agreed with a nod. "Oh, yes, indeed."

Kenobi ground his teeth together and looked hard at Organa. "I am concerned for her, though, Bail" he said. "She seems to have grown… well, quite 'attached' to Count Dooku, and it's just beyond me as to why." He shook his head. "It can't be good for her."

Bail looked rather vexed by this, and his brow furrowed as he thought on it. "I'm not aware of everything that happened to her, but I was led to believe that Dooku was behind it all - the manipulation and the blackmail, and so on and so forth - so it all seems quite unlikely that she would then become 'friends' with him. Not on those terms." He considered this for another moment, then just said plainly. "If truth be told, Obi-Wan, to me, that just doesn't make sense. He made her join the separatists, he made her sign over her planet… It's a ridiculous notion."

"Well, I guess it's not really my business," Kenobi sighed at length before he looked at Bail and offered him one of his characteristic smiles. "Come, we'll take some breakfast, then we'll meet with Master Yoda below ground."

The two thus entered the manor and paced together down its halls.

* * *

"I'm surprised you don't snore." 

"What do you mean by 'surprised'?"

Padmé shrugged and smiled at Serenn as they walked down the quiet corridors this morning. "I don't know," she said, glancing out of the windows that they passed, "I just am."

His brow arched and he looked down at her until she turned back to look at him. "So you believe you can judge a snoring man by his looks, yes?" he asked her. "Have I got that right?"

She just gave him another sweet smile. "I suppose," she said.

He thought on this for a while, then asked, "Is it my beard?"

"It might be."

"My age?"

"Definitely that."

The Count shook his head but he couldn't help but smirk at her. "You are rather curious sometimes, Padmé."

"I'm glad you don't snore, though."

Serenn actually chuckled. "This is perhaps the most absurd conversation I've ever had with anyone, my dear. In fact, I find the inanity of it quite refreshing."

"I just thought I'd make conversation."

"Yes…" he murmured. "I'm wondering whether you hit your head last night."

"I'm sure I'd remember."

"Not if you hit your head, you wouldn't. That's half the point."

She laughed and gave his arm an affectionate push before they turned a corner and descended the mansion's main, large staircase. As they set foot in the hall below, they passed a few pilots all going out onto the grounds for a spot of target practise; they were all human except one trandoshan, and they each nodded their greetings to the Count and Padmé in turn. Serenn then guided Padmé down several more corridors before they slipped through an inconspicuous side door, which led to the underground vaults. She followed him through the doorway and then down some narrow, spiralling stone steps, until they reached the long, cold passageway of the manor's subterranean levels.

Padmé looked around at the bare, stone walls and felt herself shudder. She remembered walking down here before, when things had been at close to their most bitter between her and the Count... It seemed so strange now, to think of how everything had worked out.

As these thoughts came back to haunt her, she hardly realised that she had frozen to the spot, and it took the touch of Dooku's hand on her arm to awaken her from her unpleasant reverie; "Are you okay?" he asked her.

She looked at him and nodded. "Yes… It's just… memories."

Serenn's arm came round her shoulder and he gave it a rub before he urged her to walk along with him.

"So, who's going to be at this meeting?" Padmé asked as she felt the warmth of his body against hers and tried to focus on the here and now.

"Master Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi…" Serenn replied, his boots echoing against the floor. "And if Organa's arrived, then him, too. If anyone else turns up, I shall be surprised."

Padmé sighed, suddenly feeling a little dizzy and she put her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes. It was ironic that it was here, at virtually this exact spot, that she had once had to fight the urge to throw up, a long time ago...

"Padmé, if you're unwell?" she heard Serenn's soft voice come to her through the strange bubble of giddiness that had inflated in her consciousness. She swallowed and shook her head, opening her eyes again. "I'm fine," she assured him.

He gave her an unconvinced look, but slowly continued again, keeping a firm hold of her.

After a while, they reached the door at the end of the passage and Serenn took her across the threshold and into the military-base-esque communication's room, filled with that large, circular table, around which the Confederacy had once converged. But no more… Only the ghost of their memories remained, and only the Count of them all still lived.

As the door closed behind them, Padmé looked around and saw that they were not alone, but, though all the faces were familiar to her, the atmosphere wasn't as welcoming as she had expected it to be, and she could practically smell the sudden tautening of Dooku's body as he locked gazes with Senator Bail Organa, who was stood rigidly by the back wall. Serenn bowed to the Alderaanian, albeit rather stiffly, and said, "Senator Organa. I see you have arrived."

He got a rather stilted nod in return. "Well observed, Count Dooku" Bail replied.

Padmé took this brief opportunity to look over at both Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was sat by the table, toward the left side of the room, and Master Yoda, who was sat on top of the table altogether, because the chairs were too low for his little body, and she smiled a little at them both, before she then turned her sights back onto Senator Organa.

"I was hoping to see you earlier, seeing as this is your house…" Bail continued, taking it upon himself to pace round the table toward the Count, "but then, what do I know about the rules of playing host on Serenno?" He gave Dooku a brief, stinging smile, before he then just glowered at him again.

Padmé, somewhat intuitively, suddenly placed her hand against Serenn's arm, trying to pacify his temper, but he shrugged her off and scowled at Bail as the senator dared to close the gap between them to so little that he was now standing right under the Count's nose.

Padmé looked to Obi-Wan and to Yoda, but neither looked likely to intervene.

"And how is Padmé Amidala this morning?" Bail went on, staring into Dooku's eyes until he'd finished the sentence, after which he turned them onto her. His voice softened as he then added "Are you well?"

Padmé opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly closed it again as she felt bile flood at the foot of her gullet and threaten to just leap forth from her mouth. She took a breath and swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the sickness; she was quite unable to understand from whence the sensation had suddenly come, and she was more than a little putout by it. She could have done without this show of affliction right now.

"It would appear not," Bail thus deduced, looking at her with his usual kindness, before his demeanour again froze over into distrust as he once more pinned Dooku with his gaze.

The Count just glared back for a moment until he forced his line of sight down in an attempt to shut out the view and calm himself. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now...

Bail finally stepped away and placed his hand on Padmé's shoulder, taking her a short distance away for a brief talk, but as Serenn set his eyes on them and stared at Organa's hand, a terrible sensation of resentment burst to life in his heart.

He watched Bail's mouth move as the senator said to Padmé, "Are you all right?", before she nodded to him in return and answered in a voice too soft and indistinct for him to hear. He felt suddenly agitated and he could not pull his eyes away from Organa's hand. His heart pounded in his chest and he could do nothing to prevent his anger from proliferating like a deadly poison through his veins, taking him over and drawing him back toward that dark place in his heart that he had attempted to mark off bounds. All he could suddenly think of was 'get your hands off her, leave her alone', and he felt his fists clench and his muscles contract. He wanted to pounce on Organa, he wanted to tear off his limbs and have him gone from his house, he wanted--

He blinked and gasped, his senses thus flooding back to him as he suddenly realised what was happening; there was the dark side again, caged deep within him, just waiting to be unleashed. It had whispered slander in his ears - 'look, he wants her now, he's going to take her from you, don't let him' - and he had almost given into it. He heaved a great sigh and wiped his eyes, mortified by that small, insignificant moment which could have become something much worse. As he then looked up again, he realised that Master Yoda was staring fixedly at him, and he knew that his old mentor would have felt it all. The diminutive Jedi gave him a slow, approving nod, and Serenn smiled weakly in return; the dark side had tried to usurp his sanity again, but in this instance, it had failed.

He looked back up to Bail and Padmé and saw that they were looking at him. "I'm sorry?" he said.

"I said I'd trust you with my life," Padmé repeated. "And that you really have changed."

He swallowed again and nodded a little. "Yes… thank you."

As Padmé turned back to Bail and said a little more, Serenn just wiped his eyes and filled with shame at what he had just allowed to happen within his soul. Never again, he kept telling himself, and yet it was there, haunting him, like he had told Padmé it would.

'_I have gone so deep that it has consumed me. I cannot get away from it. It shall haunt my dreams and feed off my weaknesses until I die.'_

After another moment, Bail and Padmé parted and she came back to his side. "You look a bit pale, now," she whispered, "Are you all right?"

"Do not concern yourself with me, for the Force's sake," he replied, offering her a seat before he then sat next to her. "How are you now?"

She glanced to him and said, "I'm okay… I'm just hoping it doesn't get worse."

Bail walked over to a seat near Obi-Wan and sat down before he related to all present, "Senator Mothma regrets that she cannot attend. If she left her post on Chandrilla right now, she would be jeopardising both the safety of herself and of her people."

Yoda nodded as he heard this and sighed in thought. "Understandable. Safe no one is. Difficult our task shall be."

Bail's eyes then turned back onto the Count, and despite whatever Padmé had said to him, Serenn knew that the man would never trust him again. "Would the venerable Count now like to enlighten us to the current state of events?" he said.

Serenn looked straight into Bail's eyes and his gaze tightened; he could hear the sarcasm and see the mistrust, and yet, what could he do? Organa had every right to hate him; he frankly hated himself. He therefore took a deep breath and clasped his hands on the table before him, searching for the right place to start. "First of all, I welcome you to my home. I'm glad that it can finally have some use after all these years. And secondly, though it is of little consolation, please accept my deepest apologies for all that I have done. I sincerely wish that I could rectify all my mistakes, but," - and here he exchanged a glance with Padmé, - "I fear that the person who told me I cannot fix everything is unfortunately too right."

He stopped for a moment and felt Bail's sceptical gaze on his face again, which still only served to enrage him. He had to keep reminding himself that that beast must remain caged within and that, no matter what he said, he couldn't change that man's views on him.

"Firstly, for Senator Organa's benefit," he finally went on, "let me recount the mission Master Yoda and I undertook to Coruscant…"

He paused and thought back on this. "We used a stolen shuttle to journey back to the capital and, fortunately for us, sneaking down onto the planet didn't prove too much of a problem. The Empire's new security measures are still being put into place, so things were far too chaotic for them to be able to pick up on the likes of us. We therefore didn't waste any time in entering the old senate and going about our business. Whilst Master Yoda made it his duty to engage the Sith Master, I confronted a royal guard and then disguised myself with his uniform so that I could travel through the senate undetected." He paused, licking his lip. "I clearly found Padmé," - he gestured toward her - "but Master Yoda was less fortunate in his assault on the Sith Master."

Bail and Obi-Wan looked to Yoda on cue as the diminutive Jedi nodded. "Hmm… too powerful was he. Too powerful."

"But Master Yoda did inflict quite a blow on him," Serenn went on.

"Yes," Yoda concurred. "Force lightning did the Sith Master use. And back at him did I send it. Unprepared was he for this. A malformed figure he is now."

"Though no less powerful," Dooku commented.

Yoda gave Serenn a sharp look. "Not everything can I do, old Padawan! What expect you of Yoda? A Sith Master on a platter, hmm?"

Padmé chuckled a little, though tried not to laugh out loud, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, whilst Serenn also covered his mouth in an attempt to conceal his mirth. Once he composed himself again, he then cleared his throat and continued once more; "Well, in conclusion, we were relatively successful."

There was a pause.

"Perhaps," Bail then said. "But you have undoubtedly made Palpatine very suspicious of what is really going on in his Empire."

"The Emperor is a very suspicious man as it is," Serenn countered, staring hard at the Alderaanian, "We revealed nothing to him that he doesn't know already."

Bail's brow rose. "So he knows that you're alive, does he, Count?"

Serenn folded his arms. "I wouldn't be surprised. In fact, I'm fairly certain that he's never thought me dead."

Bail shook his head and sighed. "As you say. But now what? Where do we need to go from here?"

Dooku stared on at Organa for another long moment before he uttered, "Project Death Star."

Obi-Wan finally seemed to come to life and he leant forward in his seat, clasping his hands over the tabletop whilst Bail just folded his arms and gave the Count a quizzical look.

"Lord Sidious' plans are multi-layered nightmares of acumen," Dooku explained. "He has been plotting his rise to power for many years and he has only achieved this with great care, patience and precise timing. Though he has an Empire and unrestricted powers over the galaxy, do not be led to believe that he has realised his every goal. He has not. There is at least one final stage in his plan that I know he needs to accomplish, and that is Death Star."

Bail now gave the Count a most fearful look, the very name of this thing somehow serving to send a chill down his spine. "And what is this 'Death Star'?" he asked in a quiet, hoarse voice.

Serenn paused for another moment and glanced again at Padmé who simply urged him to carry on with a slight nod. He stared across the round table between both Obi and Bail, and said, "Death Star is, or at least shall be, a giant battle station. Through me, Lord Sidious commissioned the Geonosians to help design and build this thing and, as I'm sure you are aware, the Geonosians thrive at this sort of task. They soon had a blueprint fabricated and it has long been ready to build. The beginning of the Clone Wars interrupted their progress, however, so I was forced to take these plans from Geonosis and hand them over to Lord Sidious himself for safekeeping," - Bail scoffed upon hearing this, but Serenn just continued - "He has yet to build this thing, this Death Star, but I am confident that this shall be the next and final step in his plan. This is something we have to stop."

"So what does this thing do?" Obi-Wan asked, leaning toward Dooku over the table.

Serenn gave the Jedi a long, reluctant look and Padmé could now feel again that almost corporeal tension in the room where one could tell that everyone would much rather be somewhere else…

Exhaling slowly and placing his metal hand on the table once more, Serenn gave the surface a few, quick taps with his heavy fingers before he murmured, "Death Star shall be the home of at least a million people, but it shall be the bane of more…"

"So what is it?" Bail asked. "A giant concentration camp? A prison?"

Dooku glared at him. "It is a space station."

Bail frowned, then exchanged an uneasy glance with both Yoda and Obi-Wan. "A space station?" he asked, waiting for the coming blow; there was nothing new or dangerous about the concept of a space station, yet he could tell that he had not yet been given the most horrendous of its details.

"This space station shall be the size of a small moon," Serenn continued.

"That large?" Bail gasped.

Dooku nodded, then looked down again at his hand as he rapped the metal digits against the tabletop. "And it will carry a super-laser with the power to destroy cities, continents, and perhaps even planets."

There was a dreadful silence. When Serenn finally rose his gaze another time, he could see that Organa's face had just frozen in horror, whilst both Obi-Wan and Master Yoda were looking away, lost in their own thoughts and misgivings.

"Planets?" Organa gasped at length, barking out a short, sharp laugh. "But that's impossible. There's not the technology, not the _power _available to make such a thing. It's sheer nonsense, it's--"

Serenn shot to his feet. "This thing is the first of its kind, I grant you, but let me tell you now, it will happen. The Emperor will see to that. It is only a matter of time; he has the wealth and the authority to make sure that it comes to life, and if we don't currently have the technology, then we soon shall. And I'm warning you all now," - and he pointed to them each in turn, even Padmé - "if we don't stop its production before it's too late, then it won't take the Emperor even half as long to make a second, perhaps even a third. Once the first is done, the questions shall be answered, all the kinks shall be worked out, and the possibilities shall be endless."

Bail shook his head, unable to believe all this possible. "This is absurd, Count Dooku, absolutely absurd."

Serenn just glared back at him, planting his hands down upon the smooth surface of the table and giving the senator his gravest of looks. "Don't come crying to me when your planet is blown sky-high then, friend."

Bail swallowed hard, still unable to quite get his mind around it all; the very thought of such a gigantic killing machine made the marrow of his bones go cold, and he could feel his body tremble as he was simply overcome by terror at something he may not have the power to stop. "What were you thinking, when you were going along with all this?" he asked the Count. "What possibly made you put your name down to create this monster?" He wiped his forehead and smiled bitterly. "Well, you've made a fine mess of things, Count. A damn well fine mess..."

Serenn felt his blood boil and his lip trembled as he prepared to volley a response back at him, but again, he was grounded by Padmé as her hand came to rest flat against his arm. He shuddered as she touched him and he looked into her eyes and read the signs. 'Calm down' she was saying, and he obeyed, slowly slumping back down into his seat and trying not to think about the evils he had set into motion.

Yoda shook his head, the state of the galaxy at the worst that he had ever seen it. He got onto his little feet and, supporting himself on his cane, hobbled right to the centre of the table, saying to them all, "Our objectives, we now have. Prioritise our mission to counteract the Death Star, we must. But much more is needed before effective our cause shall be. Short on money, on supplies, on ships, on bases, and on friends, are we." He sighed and rested his little body on his cane, before he then looked up to Serenn. "Much help do we need."

Dooku stared back at his mentor for a while before it then dawned on him that he had a choice to make. This rebellion was not about fighting the mere principles of the Empire, it was about fighting for one's freedom and for the very right to live, and the Count knew that he had the means to help this cause as much as Yoda knew that he did. "Then I have an offer to make," he said at last.

Yoda nodded gently, a smile glittering in his eyes if not on his face. "Then speak, old friend."

Serenn swallowed again before he said, looking across to Kenobi and Organa, "I am a wealthy man, far too wealthy, and I have inherited a fortune large beyond my needs. I therefore have no qualms in laying it all down for you and this cause." He looked particularly at Obi-Wan as he added. "I shall pass my fortune down to you."

Bail sat back and thought on this, though was too perturbed to accept this proposal with open arms, whilst Obi held Dooku's gaze for some time before he simply looked down at his hands and resolved to say nothing.

The Count deflated a little at this anticlimax, until Yoda said, "Hmm, yes, a wise thing this is. A good decision you have made, old friend. A good decision."

Serenn gave him a nod, glad that at least someone was going to be even a little thankful for it, though he had to accept that, after everything he had done, it was unlikely he'd be able to do anything right from now on; everything he touched was tainted by his betrayals and his crimes.

He sighed over this miserable notion then turned to Padmé, only to find that she looked a bit tense herself, maybe even a bit ill... His brow knotted and he lightly placed his fingers over her hand. "Are you all right?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded before she then angled her head up to look at him. "Yes, I'm just --" Then she shook her head and decided not to play him false. "No I'm not…" she owned up. "I feel really dizzy and sick."

Dooku swallowed and then looked to Bail and Obi-Wan, who seemed to realise something was amiss, and they both rose their eyebrows in turn. He looked back to Padmé and helped her to her feet, holding her steady with his hands. "Can you excuse us for a moment?" he asked.

Obi-Wan sat back and looked at Bail, whilst Organa just shook his head and chewed on his tongue. Yoda, meanwhile, settled back down onto the shiny surface of the table and, despite everything, permitted himself a crooked, little smile.

* * *

Serenn got Padmé's head over a toilet just in time. She just threw up vigorously, clutching at the edge of the bowl, whilst Serenn held her hair behind her head and stroked her back. 

"This would have made interesting conversation," he said quietly, "You vomiting all over the table."

She smiled faintly as she finally gained respite from her unruly stomach and sat back from the basin, looking at him shyly. "Sorry," she said, mortified.

"Whatever for?"

"Being sick."

He just chuckled and shook his head. "It's all right. I'm not blaming you. It's to be expected, isn't it?"

"I suppose… not that they'll understand that."

He smiled softly at her again and thought on this for a moment. "Do you want to stay here and let me tell them?"

"You?" she asked, looking slightly dismayed by the prospect. "After the way you reacted last night?"

He looked away, having his own moment of chagrin. "I _am _sorry about that… I'm just not the man I once was."

She wiped her forehead and looked down, trying to concentrate on settling her stomach. "Don't worry about it," she sighed before she then sat back against the 'fresher room wall and tried to gain some relief from the cool tiles. "I'd rather tell them, Serenn, but…"

"You don't trust your stomach?"

She smiled a little, running her hand through her hair. "No…" She paused for a moment then rose her eyes to his. "What do you think they'll do about it?"

"'Do'? I doubt they'll do anything except talk." He looked on her another moment before he shifted to her side and stroked her arm down from her shoulder to her hand. "Things will be all right," he said. "I promise."

She gave him another smile and nodded a little, hoping he was right.

* * *

All heads turned toward the door when Dooku finally returned to the underground communications centre. "Forgive me, gentlemen," he said, "I'm afraid Padmé just isn't too well." 

Bail was on his feet by now with that tense expression on his face; his body oozed of discomfort, and he looked like he wanted to get out of here and have some fresh air, whilst Obi-Wan was in one of his meditative moods, mulling over everything in silence. Project Death Star hovered around them like a thick sinister fog, one that had little prospect of lifting.

Yoda looked hard at Serenn and rose an eyebrow. "Something to tell us, you have," he said, pointing one small, clawed finger at his old Padawan.

Serenn was beginning to wonder if Yoda was actually orchestrating this meeting, but he cast that aside and simply took a breath and nodded, thinking about how it would be best to go about all this. "Padmé would like to tell you this herself," he said quietly, "but she has been… inconvenienced."

"Then speak, Count Dooku," Bail insisted. "What worse do you have to tell us?"

Serenn looked the senator up-and-down then put his hand to his beard and rubbed it. "There's no easy way about this," he murmured, repressing his feelings of displacement and rancour. "Padmé is now with child."

Obi-Wan felt his brow furrow whilst Bail looked more than a little disconcerted. "Pregnant?" he asked.

Before anyone could start jumping to conclusions, Serenn took it upon himself to get back in there as quickly as he could. "Yes," he nodded, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice, "by Lord Vader… or rather Anakin Skywalker." He paused for a moment, grinding his teeth together. "I'm sure you'll all understand the danger of this situation. The Emperor is already aware of her condition, as is Darth Vader, so it will not be long before they start scouring the galaxy for her. We need to be extra careful in our concealment of her, and of ourselves."

Organa bit down on his lip. "Scouring the galaxy for her? Are you saying that the Emperor feels threatened by this baby?"

Dooku allowed himself a grim smile. "Think about it, Organa: the son or daughter of the Chosen One, inheriting all his or her father's powers and abilities." He shook his head. "Think of what this child might grow into. Think of it." He looked at Obi-Wan then at Master Yoda. "The child is a threat."

Bail shook his head and ran his hand back over it as this sank in. "By the stars, can things really get any worse?" He collapsed into a chair and stared numbly into space. "Not only do we have a deadly battle station to contend with, but we also have a woman carrying the child of a Sith Lord, a child which could one day destroy us all."

"Yes, but it _could_ destroy the Sith Master, that's the point," Serenn growled, "Don't you understand? The child is more a threat to him than to us."

"Then you want us to conceal it?"

"For Padmé's sake and the child's, yes. They must never be found."

"That's very noble of you, all things considered."

"It has to be done."

"Well, I'd like to hear how you plan to go about achieving this. You're not going to be here forever, Count Dooku, and neither are we."

Yoda thumped the table with his cane. "Enough," he said. "Heard _enough_, we have!"

Bail and Dooku relented and fell into silence.

"Right my old Padawan is," Yoda said as the storm calmed. "A new hope have we here."

"It's a bit early to make judgements like that, Master Yoda," Bail said candidly. "Look what became of the heralded Chosen One."

Obi-Wan threw Bail a sharp glance for a brief moment before he looked back to the Count and asked plainly, "You _are_ sure?"

Serenn's brow knitted slightly as he tried to determine exactly what it was that Kenobi was talking about, though he just presumed, at length, that it was about Padmé's pregnancy, so he simply nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

Obi-Wan sat back, rubbing his chin whilst he contemplated this.

"And she told _you_, before anyone else?" Bail now asked the Count, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.

Dooku glared back. "Why shouldn't she have?"

"I know Padmé told me some rather complimentary things about you earlier," Organa went on, "But I am still under the impression that she has suffered quite badly at your hands, which makes me wonder what makes her trust you so much now."

There was a flicker in Serenn's eyes just then, a sign of panic, and the Count glanced at Yoda, wondering if Bail knew more than what he ever wanted him to know. Yoda discreetly shook his head in return, helping to put Dooku's mind a little more at rest, but he still felt uneasy, and Bail didn't need the powers of the Force to read the signs of guilt in the Count's eyes; "So she _did _suffer?" he asked, "Then why does she trust you now? What have you done to deserve this?"

The Count looked down and swallowed. "I can't explain it," he murmured. "Things have… 'changed'."

"Have they really?" Organa asked, his tone infused with mistrust.

Obi-Wan was now on his feet, though he still said nothing. His eyes hadn't left the Count, as though he, too, couldn't shake a feeling of scepticism toward him; he just knew that Dooku wasn't telling them something, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever find out what it was.

"Well I do hope you _have _changed, Count Dooku," Bail resolved eventually, "but don't you forget that we wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for you."

Serenn turned on Bail and glared at him with such ferocity that it did make the latter feel a little nervous. He pointed at Organa and growled, in his deepest and most threatening voice, "I have made mistakes, senator, and I am more sorry for them than you can possibly imagine, but do not push me over the boundary, because I can not promise to come back again."

There was the dark side once more, brewing beneath his skin, just waiting for the invitation to be unleashed… But Serenn would not allow it. Instead, he now just backed away from Bail, turned and left.

The Alderaanian exhaled in relief as soon as the door closed behind the man, realising suddenly that he hadn't breathed once throughout the time that the Count had just spoken. "That man is dangerous," he whispered.

Yoda gave him a wise look. "So are we all, senator," he murmured, "when to our limits we are pushed."

Obi-Wan, meanwhile, just slipped out of the room in pursuit of the Count. He paced the halls as quickly as he could, going faster and faster, running up the spiral stairway to the ground floor, then rushing down the corridors, until he was close enough to Serenn to grab his arm from behind and stop him.

The Count turned and looked at Obi-Wan as he was drawn to this abrupt halt., wrenching his arm from out of his grasp and snarling, a little inappropriately, "Can I help you, boy?"

Obi-Wan took a small step back and looked hard into Serenn's eyes, studying the man's dark brown orbs with patience and care. "I can see it," he determined. "I can see it in your eyes."

The Count calmed a little as he studied Obi-Wan's visage in return; the Jedi had such an essence of Qui-Gon about him now that he couldn't help but soften to him. "What can you see?" he thus asked.

Kenobi's eyes focused in on Dooku's sharply and he stated, "I see love. You love her, don't you?"

Serenn slowly blinked once, and felt himself draw away from the younger Jedi as if in fear. "Yes, I do," he confessed. He couldn't deny it; there was no need.

Obi shook his head. "What's happened?" he asked, cringing in disbelief. "Does she love you, too? After what you did?"

The colour drained from Dooku's face when Obi-Wan said this and he felt himself lean back against the cold, stone wall behind him. "How do you know?" he asked quietly, his voice tethered down by his own degradation.

Kenobi remained calm and continued to stare into Serenn's eyes. "Anakin told me you hurt her," he said.

"Just hurt…?"

"No," Obi rejoined, stepping right up to the Count. "He told me that you did something terrible to her. I didn't know whether or not to believe him at the time, but now… I'm not so sure. Did you hurt her? Did you do something so terrible that you can't bare to admit it to my face now?"

Serenn found swallowing hard, his throat was so tight, but he eventually found the courage to nod to Obi-Wan. "Yes," he confessed. "I did something abominable…"

Obi-Wan responded with nothing but a cool nod, as if he had known all along, and he then began to turn away. The way he did all this was terrible, though, for his poise was so filled with distrust and repulsion that it made Dooku feel about as low and degraded a creature as he could get. He accordingly looked down, heaving a great sigh and feeling self-disgust pull on his throat and draw water from his eyes.

"And the child… it _is_ Anakin's?" Obi-Wan then called back from down the hall.

Serenn felt his brow furrow before his chest began to burn with rage at this accusation. "Of course it is," he snarled, raising his inflamed eyes to Kenobi's distant figure. "Don't be so absurd…"

"But is it so absurd?" Obi-Wan called, his face enfolded in the shadows and concealed from Serenn's line of sight.

The Count's gaze tightened on Kenobi once more and he tried to restrain that mixed bag of emotions that was still churning about his chest, doing his utmost to ensure that it didn't explode into an unwanted paroxysm of rage.

'_Not impossible… just improbable'_

"No, it's not so absurd," he replied at last, looking Obi-Wan's outline slowly up and down. "But Anakin is the father."

'_No need is there for you to make that mistake again.'_

Obi-Wan continued to just stare back at him, his face as grave as ever; he had grown into a rather cold man, moulded into shape by a youth of grief and fighting, and by years of training an un-trainable protégé. Dooku actually pitied him; he had long wanted to give Obi-Wan advice throughout the years, especially to tell him not to take on that young Skywalker, but he hadn't been allowed to. It had been part of the bargain.

After a while, Kenobi finally nodded and looked away. "She cares for you, too," he said. "I know it's foolish of her, but I cannot change that. You must have charmed her like you've charmed so many others…"

"What do you mean by that?" Serenn asked.

Kenobi didn't look back at him, nor did he answer.

Serenn shook his head - he had had enough of this, and he wanted to see if Padmé was all right before he then had some time to himself. "Think what you will of me, then, my boy. I can't change that."

"No, you can't," Obi-Wan said as the Count began to walk off. "Just don't hurt her again."

Serenn kept walking. "Don't worry. I won't," he growled, though not loud enough for Kenobi to hear him.

**TBC…**


	49. Haunted

**Author's Notes:** I missed out a small piece of dialogue in my last chapter, so I've gone back and reinserted it at the end of the first scene, between Padmé and Dooku. If you wanna go back and read it, feel free. I'm not sure how I forgot to include it, TBH; I just did that many drafts of the past few chapters that I kinda forgot what was and wasn't in the chapters. :) I think these last few parts, and the next few, perhaps, ought to be labelled as the slush-factor-chapters because they are kinda sentimental, but it won't last. I'll milk it whilst I still can, and whilst I still need to. :) And these aren't the best chapters I've ever written, but hey… I hope they're still all right.

And have you all seen "Revenge"…? WOW! But my poor Dook'… He went too soon… I still love him, though. He went out in style, at least, and he kicked absolute ass! (He's got it in for Obi-Wan, hasn't he…?)

I had hoped to finish this story before Christopher Lee's birthday, which is tomorrow (May 27th), but that's gone out the window. But a very happy 83rd to Mr. Lee:D

**Padawanmage:** Some things are better left for the readers to decide. ;) And you're too right about Obi & Dook'

**Silverwolf47:** I haven't worked so hard on a fanfic ever as I have been working on this for the past few works, so rest assured that I'm not slacking off!

**Cmdr. Gabe E.:** Can I have Dook' back now…? ;) Pwlease? Heh. And I'm not so sure that there will be happy ending. I mean, c'mon, this is an alternate Ep.3! ;)

**Millie:** I think you might be reading the wrong fanfic - Ami/Ani just doesn't figure in this story. Sorry.

**Kynstar: **Thanks! I tried to put myself in Bail's shoes, and I hoped I got it right.

**HRHpadmeamidala:** Thankies.

**REV:** Obi and Dook' will have to swallow their pride and work together soon, I will say that.

**

* * *

****Part 49 - Haunted**

The seasons on Serenno had a mind of their own. The good weather soon gave way to a short, jaded autumn, and then this developed within mere days into a tempestuous winter. Snow billowed down from the heavens in vast multitudes, jamming communications and drawing the temperature down so far in the old, stone manor that it wasn't uncommon to see people muffled up in great snow-coats indoors. The Tarsos did all they could to keep the fires burning and the hall's many rooms warm, but it wasn't an easy task. The snow provided some good training situations for the rebel group, as they took to adapting their exercises for adverse weather conditions, but it was otherwise a bleak and depressing time.

The Dooku manor had, by now, become something of a revolutionary hub. Contact points had been set up across the galaxy and new codes of communication had been produced so that all messages between parties were intricately encrypted. A further boost to moral had come in the form of the elusive Bothan spy network, who had, thanks to Bail's careful negotiation, now pledged their loyalty to the rebel cause; they sent news from the Imperial worlds as often as they came by it, which helped the uprising hugely, and, though it was far too early to be able to judge how successful this insurgent movement would ever be, there certainly appeared to be hope. But still there was no news of the project Death Star.

After tensions had died down a little concerning this superweapon, and Padmé's baby, people began to seriously get their heads down, and there was a general agreement that everyone needed to be prepared to face the likes of Darth Vader and his Emperor again. Therefore, for his part, Master Yoda had taken it upon himself to help train his two Jedi Knights - or his Knight and his former Padawan, at least - to the best of their ability. The problem with training Obi-Wan Kenobi and Serenn Dooku together was the fact that they didn't get on, and most of the time they didn't even try to; they were as stubborn as each other (which, if one knew as much as Master Yoda did, was no surprise). To make matters worse, the very Force itself had become fidgety and nervous, which thus rubbed off on those who felt its effects most intimately, and if it hadn't been for Master Yoda's constant supervision of Obi and Dooku's duels, then someone would have woken up to find more than mere droplets of sweat on the training hall floor...

It was in aforesaid training hall, one bleak evening, and several months following Padmé's rescue, that Obi-Wan Kenobi faced off against Count Dooku again, and the atmosphere between them was practically crackling with strife. Yoda watched with exasperation from the shadow of the sidelines as the red and blue blades crossed and the two men tackled one another with all possible manner of un-Jedi-like savagery…

Obi-Wan swung his blue 'sabre down over Serenn's red one and the two weapons crackled. The two warriors glared at one another, sweat trickling down their brows and stinging their eyes, before, with a great thrust, the Count threw Obi-Wan off-balance and sent him crashing to the floor. Obi turned his fall into a roll, and leapt back to his feet, before he propelled his lightsabre forward at Dooku and locked it against the elder man's another time.

They pushed hard against one another, the muscles in their arms trembling to sustain the assault, until Kenobi withdrew and smoothly thrust his blade at Dooku's abdomen, only to have it parried to the side by the Count, who then sent a flashy kick into Obi-Wan's groin.

Kenobi doubled up and dropped to his knees whilst a great wash of insults now poured from out of his mouth. The fact that Serenn just threw the younger man a curt smirk rather than an apology didn't help matters, and Obi reacted by thrusting his hand out at the Count and volleying him, with the Force, right across the chamber. Dooku consequently hit the far wall with an embarrassing thud before he dropped to the floor and just lay there.

Yoda placed his tiny, clawed hand over his eyes and shook his head. "Control!" he pressed, looking between the groaning Obi-Wan and the floored Count in irritation. "Where is your control?"

Dooku heaved a great sigh and stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply, whilst Obi inhaled heavily in turn and flicked off his blade, giving the Count a cantankerous scowl. "You're not concentrating," he snarled, before he tossed his lightsabre away as if he truly didn't care, and walked off toward the sidelines. "You're just wasting my time." He then picked up a towel and began to wipe the sweat from his body.

The atmosphere in the room was very chill and it made Yoda sad to see it. He sighed again and shook his head pitifully whilst a horrific blizzard thundered against the windows.

Serenn remained lying back on the floor and covered his eyes with his arm as he caught his breath; he knew he hadn't been concentrating, but he could hardly bring himself to focus. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there… the dream, the nightmare, the terrible vision.

_/Two children… a trail of blood… mother dead/_

At length, though, he did finally climb back onto his feet, deactivating his weapon before he then walked slowly across the room in Obi-Wan's direction.

"How are we supposed to train if you don't concentrate?" Obi-Wan groused on as Dooku met his eyes. The Jedi wiped his face with his towel before he threw it, a little too violently, toward Serenn. "Come on, enlighten me," he insisted.

The Count caught the towel then glared at Kenobi. "You wouldn't understand," he grumbled.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest but Master Yoda thrust his cane onto the floor and sent a loud echo through the hall, nipping Kenobi's objection in the bud. "Enough, children!" the diminutive Jedi Master said. "Need this we do _not_."

Obi sighed, giving in, and just stared down at his feet.

"Clear your mind must be, Serenn," Yoda continued, looking to his old protégé. "Clouded your thoughts are."

Serenn gave his master a long look but said nothing.

"And patient you must be, Obi-Wan," Yoda added as he turned to Kenobi.

Obi sighed and looked a little humiliated as he thence dropped his head and stared at the floor.

Yoda pursed his lips and made one of his small grunts. "Difficult this time is for all," he said to them both, "but make it only more difficult both of you do."

Serenn's lip trembled slightly before he made a sudden turn toward the wall and hurled the towel into it. It made a dull slapping sound as it struck it, before it then fell to the floor.

"Serenn!" Yoda barked.

Dooku ignored him. He just walked on past Obi-Wan and left.

Obi ground his teeth together and shared a frustrated glance with Yoda. "This isn't getting any easier," he murmured. "We've been at this for weeks and I just can't work with him. He doesn't _want _to work."

"Troubled are his thoughts," Yoda said, hobbling over the floor toward Kenobi. "Difficult are things for him."

"It feels like I'm working with Anakin again," Obi continued, turning to look at the doorway through which Serenn had just left. "He just can't focus. He's just…" He pursed his lips and gesticulated with his hands, physically trying to grasp the words he wanted, but failed to catch them. "Oh, I don't know…" he sighed at length. "He's impossible."

Yoda chuckled and the sound of his laugh softened Obi-Wan a little.

"What's so funny, master?" he asked.

"A long time did I tutor Dooku, from a small boy to a man. Impossible he is, think you, hmm? Trained him you did not! Worked with him as a teenager you did not. Think you know impossible do you? Ha! What know you of impossible? Think how Master Yoda feels!"

Obi-Wan smiled widely and chuckled. "Forgive me, master. I guess when you put it like that…"

Yoda smiled back, thankful that the tension had dissipated, and he and Obi-Wan thus left the hall together.

* * *

Serenn had wandered off. He was alone in one of his mansion's many corridors, sat on the floor with his back against the wall and his legs stretched across the hallway. He stared hard at the opposite wall, his eyes intense but also, more significantly, shining with unshed tears. 

The wind howled against the window at the far end of the hall, nothing being visible out of it except a blanket of white, and it was incredibly chilly in this corridor, so much so that one's breath hung in a mist before one's mouth. And yet the Count couldn't care less; he hardly felt it. All he wanted was an end to these dreams and premonitions, and yet what could he do? Nothing. He was just so afraid that that they would come true… and he knew that he would be powerless to stop it if they did.

_/Not in control, are you. Never liked this, has Serenn Dooku. No, never liked lack of control/_

He looked up as he heard movement in the corridor and watched as Padmé sat opposite him, wrapped in a thick blanket. Despite this copious layer of covering, he could still discern the round curve of her belly, swollen with several months of pregnancy; he knew she had not long to wait until her baby was born, and he was afraid for her. And she knew it.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

He stared back at her. He could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end in the cold, could feel his muscles tremble in search of warmth, but he cared not. He turned his gaze to the floor and ran his metal fingers over the marble tiles, creating gentle tinkling noises as he did so. "I can't focus, Padmé," he murmured. "I'm afraid."

The wind howled at the windows, shaking the glass panes and sending shrill whistles beneath the doors.

Padmé studied his face for a while before she asked, enclosing herself even tighter in her blankets, "What are you afraid of?"

Serenn shook his head, knitting his teeth together. He didn't say a word.

"Serenn, how can I help you if you don't open up?"

He gave her a sharp glare. "Don't tell me to open up. I can't."

"I want to help you."

"You can't."

Padmé exhaled a breath of exasperation and looked away at the window down the corridor.

Serenn sighed, feeling a trickle of penitence seep into his veins as he realised how he was acting, and yet he couldn't bring himself to respond in any other way.

"I thought we trusted each other," Padmé now whispered, and, when Serenn glanced up at her, he saw she was looking not merely at him, but through him.

He swallowed. "We do," he said.

"But _do_ you?"

"And you?" he challenged. "Do you?"

They stared at one another, lost in their own words, two politicians of the past thrown together by a dark, devised destiny.

Padmé curled herself into as much of a ball as she could before her belly obstructed her and she leant her head to the side, propping it up on a clustered mound of her blankets whilst she stared at him a little longer. "I trust you," she said. "But I also trust that you aren't telling me something."

He blinked once, slowly, and merely continued to stare.

"You can't relax," she went on. "Everyone says so, especially Obi-Wan."

Serenn's lip made an evident movement as he heard Kenobi's name, and he jerked his head to the side. "Yes, well I wouldn't take too much stock of what Master Obi-Wan has to say…"

"Oh, grow up," Padmé sighed in return. "He's lost so much, and he's given up many of his principles to help you, and yet you treat him like…"

Serenn continued to stare away. "Like what?" he murmured.

"An inferior," she said. "Someone who's second-rate."

The Count slowly looked back at her. "I can't help that right now. I see so much in him that I'd rather forget, and yet I can't…" He dropped his gaze to the floor again and knocked his metal fist against the marble. "I'm guilt-ridden and afraid, and everyone around me suffers because of it. That's the best justification I can give you for my behaviour at present."

He leant his head forward into his hand and exhaled heavily before he heard a rustle of fabric and felt Padmé settle next to him. He felt her hand touch his thigh and rub it up and down and then he felt her head as she rested it on his shoulder. "You're cold," she whispered, hooking her arm round his and clinging to him.

"Aren't I always?"

She didn't say anything. She just pressed her lips against his arm and kissed him gently, sending a warm tremor through his body.

"It'll be all right," she said.

"Will it?" he asked. "I can't convince myself of that." He looked down at her through the gloom. "I can't stop thinking about you, and feeling that… you might get hurt."

She looked at him. "Is that still bothering you?"

He didn't say anything else. He knew that Padmé was aware he had reservations about her pregnancy, but he hadn't told her that it was of her death that he constantly dreamt.

Padmé placed her hand against his cheek and rubbed her thumb over his rough beard, smiling tenderly at him. He turned to her and smiled a little in return, and watched as she leant up to him and pressed her mouth against his, giving him a long kiss.

When she eventually drew away, she gave him another smile and then said, looking into his eyes, "Don't worry. What will be, will be."

Needless to say, it didn't comfort him at all to hear that.

* * *

_/Padmé… Where are you/_

Tremors through the foundations made the subterranean foundries on Geonosis tremble like fearful children. These great, underground factories never slept, and were currently being worked day and night, not for Count Dooku, but for the Emperor. The Imperials had swept into the Geonosian lands and taken over, infesting the underground structures like a great swarm of ants usurping a giant beast's carrion. From off these production lines now came huge reinforced girders, great transparasteel windows, sheets of armour plating, weaponry… everything; but all this equipment wasn't just for any old battalion or ship - this was all for the Emperor's ultimate weapon.

Darth Vader didn't really have a clue why he'd been sent here, though. He had done as his master had requested, had contacted Governor Tarkin, and had thus been sent out here to report on events, and now found that he was being asked to remain here by Lord Sidious. This infuriated Vader no end, and he was certain the Sith Master knew it, yet he dared not oppose the man; Sidious was not a figure to be trifled with. Governor Tarkin was reasonable enough company, though obviously infatuated by this project of the Emperor's, but he could have been the most exciting man in the universe and Vader still wouldn't have wanted to be here. The thing was that Padmé was still out there - he could still feel her, like a hint of delightful aroma on a passing breeze, yet he could never discern from whence her signature came, or from how far. He knew that she was still carrying his son, though, and he needed to find her before the child was born. He was the boy's father, and he would have him here with him as he grew up, revelling in the Empire his father had helped to create, and living in a society that would be a secure and functional place. How proud his boy would be.

Darth Vader heaved a great sigh and mulled all this over and over in his mind. He was sat cross-legged in the centre of a large, bland chamber that overlooked the great molten pits of the metal-casting units below; a small window allowed one to preside over the views of the bright yellow and orange liquid as it poured from one chamber to another and was forced into shape before it cooled. All this glowing molten metal sent terrible, malicious splashes of red and gold up the walls, and the constant sound and movement - even more so, the smell - of this factory made Vader feel most ill at ease. He wanted to get off of this planet as soon as he could. It didn't hold good memories.

He breathed deeply, searching the waves and plains of the Force for another time, looking for his loved one, but she was barred from him. He had a terrible feeling about this, a sensation of unwanted 'familiarity', as far as Padmé's current predicament went; he couldn't explain this, it was just as if he knew she was with someone that he didn't want her to be with…

_/Come back to me, Padmé/_

_

* * *

_Padmé watched the great blanket of white out of the windows of her bedchamber as the evening drew in. Her hand rested lightly, almost unconsciously, over her belly as she watched the snow hurtle down in great swathes over the landscape. She desperately wished for the company of her sister right now, to talk about the things they now would never have chance to talk about, to discuss her child's future and to hear her sister's stories of Pooja and Ryoo's births and infancy. She needed that right now, but contact with anyone beyond these walls, unless essential, was not permitted, and she had to respect that. 

As the rise of her belly became more noticeable, and her emotions began to play more than a little havoc with her senses, she couldn't help but look to the future and wonder how things were going to play out. And it wasn't the Empire she was thinking of, not even the rebellion… it was simple things like whereabouts the baby would be sleeping, and where she would allow it to play, and how good a mother she might make. And then there was that terrible niche of the father figure to fill, if Anakin didn't right his ways and see sense soon… which she lamentably knew he wouldn't.

She swallowed and ran her hand over the growing curve, until she suddenly jumped as she felt two hands slip onto her shoulders from behind and massage them gently. She smiled a little and leant back into the man. "The weather's dreadful," she sighed.

"I know," Serenn replied.

They stared at the blizzard in silence for a while.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked.

She lay her hand back against him and coil his long hair round her finger. "The baby," she replied quietly. "I was just wondering… you know, thinking about how lovely it'll be for him to grow up here."

Serenn remained silent.

"Did you have no brothers and sisters?" Padmé then asked, catching him unawares.

His brow contracted for a moment as she asked this of him. "No," he said plainly. "I was the last and only son of the late Count Dooku - did I not tell you? - My parents lost me to the Jedi, so that was that, and the family line ends with me."

Padmé tried to picture her life without her sister having been there as she contemplated all this, but she could not. "That's rather sad," she said, cushioning her head more firmly against him. "Have you ever wondered what it would have been like to have grown up here, or to have had siblings?"

She felt his hands shift to her waist and come to rest over her abdomen. "Oh, yes," he murmured. "It's only natural for one to ponder on the ifs and buts of the past, is it not?"

She smiled and nodded. "Of course."

She watched the snow for a little longer, before she then asked, as her eyes tracked the movements of the giant snowflakes, "So, what will you do with your estate afterwards?"

Padmé felt a sigh resound within his chest as she brought this rather grim inevitability to light. "I shall just give it all to the revolution," he eventually said, "I know I won't be needing it."

"All this, along with your fortune?"

He smiled a little. "Yes. The rebellion can have it all… though…" He then seemed to tense a little as he tapped his fingers across her belly, a thought occurring to him.

She angled her head back to look at him. "Though what?" she pressed.

"If you'd permit me," he went on, his rather nervy tone implying that what he was about to say wasn't a decision he had come to easily, "Maybe your child will need some provision. I'm willing to make up for that."

She looked at him with quite some humility and surprise. "There's no need," she whispered.

"Why ever not?" he asked. "I owe it to you… and, perhaps, to your baby."

She leant back against him again, unable to get her head round his sudden kindness, for his generosity to a child that was not only not his, but which was fathered by his bitterest rival. "Thank you, Serenn," she said.

He smiled again, but he didn't look down at her.

It was then that Padmé suddenly felt a strange sensation in her abdomen, something that took her by complete surprise and sent her into a spasm of excitement. She sprang from the Count's arms and looked down. "Oh Force," she gasped. "Serenn! Quick, give me your hand!"

Dooku looked at her dourly. He had a strong inclination not to give her his hand, yet her face was just so bright, and her smile so true, that it heartened him a little just to see it, so, after a long pause, he did offer her his left hand and watched as she snatched it eagerly and placed it flat out on her belly.

"Can you feel it?" she asked.

Serenn swallowed, trying not to meet her eyes.

"Can you feel my baby kicking?" she went on, pulling her eyes away from her womb to see his reaction.

Serenn just froze, staring into nothingness as he stood there with her soft hands enveloped warmly over his only remaining flesh one; the fact was that he didn't _want _to feel Anakin's child - but how could he communicate that to her? He couldn't without hurting her, and he refused to do that. He felt removed from the whole child-bearing thing as it was, being a man, but when faced with it, and with another's man child at that, how was he supposed to react? With his haunting dreams hovering in the back of his mind on top of all this, it hardly made for a tender moment.

He swallowed, before he then glanced into her amazed, joyous face, and saw there such happiness and bliss that he didn't have the heart to utter any discontent - on the contrary, he had the sudden urge to please her. Heaving a great sigh, he consequently did his best to sweep his apprehensions aside, and he attempted to see beneath her skin, closing his eyes and asking the Force to open up to him the reality of her baby so that he could, in turn, please her in some way and tell her what he could see.

Padmé watched him carefully, his hand causing a slight tingling sensation in her body, in great contrast to the feelings that the Emperor's touch had stirred within her, and she giggled a little as the sensation coursed through her, making her feel as close to her baby as she yet had.

Suddenly, however, the wonderful moment was shattered as she felt a flash of darkness cascade down before her eyes like a falling curtain. She gasped and then felt Serenn's hand shoot away from her body, almost as if he'd received an electric shock in the same instant.

She panted and looked to him for an answer, the short but sinister experience creating a cold spot in her heart; "What was that?" she whispered. She was certain that something was wrong, she could see it in his face, he was just so pale and shaken.

He remained silent for a moment until his brow then furrowed and he swallowed heavily.

"Serenn?" she pushed on.

"No, please, don't worry," he murmured, coming back to himself, "It's nothing for you to be anxious about, it's just… well…"

Padmé hung on his every word. "What, for the Force's sake?"

He sighed, images of his dreams flashing before his eyes.

_/Two babies… cots in the moonlight… mother dead in a pool of blood/_

"There's two," he whispered.

She looked perplexed at first and drew away from him. "Twins?" she asked softly.

He offered her a wan smile, trying to clear the images of his visions from his mind; he half imagined that he saw Padmé before him, right now, covered in blood, and that was the last thing he wanted to see. "Yes, I believe that twins is the technical term," he replied at length, trying to shake the thought from his mind.

She broke into a smile then laughed and lunged herself at him, clasping him around his neck and embracing him in celebration. "Oh Serenn," she cried with joy, breaking him from out of his morbid stupor. "Twins! I never imagined…"

His body went rigid again as she did this, but he eventually forced himself to stroke her hair down her back and forget his apprehensions. "Congratulations," he whispered.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling, and allowed herself another one of those rare, short moments where she felt nothing but pure happiness. She held onto the Count for some time whilst this all sunk in, her mind just overflowing with this new thought of there being two babies growing inside of her. It was such a blessing… But with this their equally came new fears, and if the Emperor discovered that there were two--

Padmé's brow then creased as she now stumbled upon this puzzling state of affairs. "Serenn," she asked, "why didn't he know?"

"Hmm?"

"The Emperor," she muttered, drawing herself away from him and looking into his eyes. "He only saw one child."

Serenn's brow knotted as he thought on this and he glanced away. That was a point: Why had the Emperor, that all-powerful Sith Master, only seen one? "I… don't know," he replied, frowning to himself all the while. "There could be any number of reasons for it. Perhaps the Force concealed it from him, maybe he just wasn't looking for more than one… who knows?"

Padmé sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against his body again and running her hands up and down his arms. "It's better that he doesn't know, isn't it?" she murmured.

"Perhaps. At least one of the two won't be sought after."

Her grip tightened on him as he said this. "I don't want any of them to be sought after," she said. "How can I protect them? How can I make sure they're both safe?"

He pried her away from him and stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes sadly. "I don't know," he confessed.

Padmé gazed back at him for a while until, suddenly, she looked away. An unwanted memory had risen back up to taunt her, images flashing before her eyes like an unstoppable slideshow, and she bit her lip in shame; "I can't believe I was going to kill them…" she whispered.

Serenn stared at her for a moment, perplexed. "What's that?" he asked.

She looked again into his eyes. "Do you remember, on Coruscant, when you saved me? I was about to kill myself, and kill my baby… or rather my babies."

Serenn swallowed, glancing away.

"I couldn't bear the thought of the Emperor and Anakin taking my child away from me. I was prepared to risk so much… and to end so much."

The Count's eyes remained distant and grave until he looked into Padmé's and saw that he wasn't helping matters. He tried to alleviate the sombre aura with a slight smile. "It's all right now. You're safe."

Padmé smiled at him again. She wanted to be happy and to tell the world about her pregnancy, to enjoy the prospect of becoming a mother and having a children of her own, but the situation, the war, Anakin… it was all too much. How could she enjoy the prospect when such shadows loomed over her head?

"Why now?" she asked herself, "Why must I bring these children into the world now?"

The Count swallowed and shook his head again. "It's not your fault."

There was another moment of silence between them, which the Count then broke, saying quietly, "Padmé?"

"Yes?"

He bit his lip for a moment and walked a little away, looking out into the snowstorm as he thought on how best to explain what he wanted to - or even whether he should tell her at all. "I would like to tell you something," he resolved at last, "Something about me. You might find it… interesting."

Padmé felt her brow furrow. "Okay," she said.

The Count had that distant look in his eyes, but one with which Padmé could relate - a look of sorrow, of pain, or having lost something so precious it stung you to your core. "I have a son," he said.

She looked confused and didn't know what to say at first. The thought had never occurred to her that perhaps, across all those years of his life, he might have fallen in love with someone and had a child. And yet he had never mentioned it; in fact, he'd pretty much denied it. "You told me, long ago, that you had no issue," she reminded him, thinking back over their time together. "Was that another lie?"

"No," he replied at once, "though it may depend on your point of view as to whether you concur or not. Technically I don't have any issue. This son wasn't 'legitimate' - not under the principles of the galaxy's aristocracy and upper echelons, anyway - and, to add insult to injury, he was raised under an anonymous name and under an anonymous guise. I could never acknowledge him as my own - that was the bargain."

"'Bargain'?" She shook her head. "I still don't follow."

He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the ceiling, as though it might offer him a window to the past; "He was a beautiful baby," he said, "He looked, and still does look, more like his mother, but when I think about his character and how he acts…" He made a gentle laugh, "He's so like me."

"But you were a Jedi, weren't you?" Padmé asked.

"Oh yes," he nodded, "We both were. That was why he was taken from us. We were forbidden to have 'connections', strong bonds and all, and we were definitely forbidden to love, as you surely know. Our boy was strong in the Force, so, as soon as he was born, the Jedi kept him for their own devices, as they always do. There was no question." He sighed, wiping his eyes. "So here was the agony. Every day my lover and I would see him, but never could we call him 'son', never could we let him know who he was, or who we were… Never."

Padmé felt a bit odd - now that she knew about this anonymous, faceless 'lover' from Serenn's past, she felt a little… perturbed. Suddenly there was another person on Serenn's arm who had given him the ultimate gift - or perhaps, in his case, the ultimate curse - and yet there was no real reason for her to care about this. It must have been a long time ago, and there was no need to feel threatened…

"We wondered why we weren't expelled from the Order," the Count continued to relate, "Yet I suppose one could say that this forced 'estrangement' from our child was punishment enough." He shook his head. "His mother never recovered from this loss. I think it drove her to her death."

Padmé now felt uneasy. "I couldn't cope if that happened to me," she said, "If my children were taken away from me." And, before she could even enquire after the identity of Dooku's son or the name of the mother, something hit her - was he telling her about his past, and this unfortunate liaison, because he saw parallels between it and her current predicament?

Padmé now shook her head and began stepping away from him. "No!" she shouted, "You _won't _take them away from me! You can't! I won't let you! They're _my _child, they'll be all I have left!"

"Padmé…" He reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand aside.

"Don't touch me! You _can't_ take them away from me!"

He had an expression on his face so filled with pity that Padmé almost hated him for it.

"I would never consider separating you from your children," Serenn whispered, "But there are those that would, and that will."

He then gently pulled her into his arms and held her to his chest where his steady heart beat lulled her into a restful stupor and calmed her down a little. Padmé felt her nerves settle as she lay there and breathed in his scent - he was right, of course; she knew things were never going to be easy. She then felt Dooku run his hand over her hair and nestle his face in her locks; "I wish I wasn't separated from you by the sands of time," he murmured to her before he kissed her cheek. "I really do."

**TBC…**

**NB:** Please tell me whether or not I've used that window-to-the-past sentence before, because I can't remember! It was originally in Part 47, but I'm sure I took it out…


	50. Legacy of the Jedi

**Part 50 - Legacy of the Jedi**

The sun was coming in bright through the window this morning. The sky was clear but the atmosphere was still cold, and a great blanket of white covered the panorama, making the view from the windows a dazzling one. Padmé knew it was early when she opened her eyes - she could tell by the mere stillness of the atmosphere - but she had rather not awoken yet; it was the persistent ache in the small of her back that had brought her back to the realms of consciousness, and she wished that it would just give her a moment's peace. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a night of uninterrupted slumber.

Padmé tried to alleviate the pain by shifting about, endeavouring to make herself more comfortable, but it was of little use, and she soon gave in with a dissatisfied groan.

She then turned her head to look at Serenn as he lay sleeping next to her. He didn't sleep in here every night - he had made it quite clear to her that he found it rather inappropriate, despite things - yet Padmé had begged for him to stay for the past few nights. She hadn't had a smooth pregnancy, and had been ill and feverish more often than not, so she frequently craved some form of extra comfort to distract her and to put her mind at rest. Perhaps she secretly wanted the place of the absent father to be filled, too.

She reached out to him and ran her hand up and down his naked chest, and she listened to his breaths as they came and went in steady succession of each other. He still puzzled her; he must truly be a master of the Force to be able to defy age and time as he had, to be so fit and energetic.

She moved herself a little again and settled her head on his breast, rubbing his arm up-and-down from the shoulder down to the top of his metal limb, and emitted a gentle sigh, and as she felt his warm skin beneath her fingers, a memory came to her from the folds of the past, of being back on Naboo with her sister, Sola:

_/'Count Dooku, I said - do you have any issues with him? I mean, concerning how you each view things and stuff, of course. I know that he's definitely not a contender for the 'potential boyfriend', not like that charming young Anakin…'/_

She smiled a little - how would she ever explain all this to her parents? Would she have to? Would she ever be able to? Did she even want to?

_/'Are you of the 'love and politics don't mix' variety?'/_

Her smile faded as further memories flooded in. That night had turned dark once Sola had left. She was not about to forget the anger and malice with which Serenn had treated her as she had come across him, sat in her 'fresher room with those bloody wounds.

_/'Stop it! Why can't you leave me alone?'_

'_You are alone. Very alone'/_

She exhaled slowly and tapped her fingers against the Count's artificial limb.

_/'Serenn…please…I think you'd just better go'/_

She couldn't believe she was lying with the same man right now, nor could she believe that it was now Anakin with whom she was so much more afraid to be.

She felt a tear appear at the corner of her eyes and it rolled down her cheek and onto Serenn's chest; the strangest, and perhaps most incomprehensible thing about this 'union', about this relationship between her and Serenn, was their history; she couldn't quite make herself understand how a man who had once taken her against her will, and even against her knowledge, could come to occupy such a firm place in her heart. She loved him, though she hadn't told him that, not in those words anyway, but she also still loved Anakin, the Anakin of old who had, following an awkward courtship, won over her heart. But Anakin wasn't here anymore, and he was as good as dead until he came back into the light and out of the Emperor's grasp. The dilemma of these two men, these two lovers, caused her much stress, for she could never be quite sure of where her feelings should truly lie; She carried Anakin's children in her womb, after all, so shouldn't her loyalties lie with him? And yet, hadn't she consummated a firm relationship with Serenn? Hadn't he, the Count, offered her children some form of future security? Hadn't he eventually come to cast his own feelings aside to embrace both her and her unborn offspring?

Another small tear arose in the corner of her eye and she wiped it away; she'd never imagined she'd end up in this sort of mess.

She felt the movement of her children in her belly and she ground her teeth together, groaning as an ache followed this. She was sure the two babies were having a good fight in there - they never seemed to want to rest.

"Are you all right?"

Padmé wiped her eyes again and rose her head off Serenn's chest as she heard his deep voice reverberate around his chest. He was looking down at her now with some concern, and she had obviously woken him.

She nodded, "Yes… I just hurt all over…"

He gave her a knowing smile and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look down on her. He then slid his hand onto the skin over her swollen belly, and closed his eyes. "Well," he said as he ran his hand over the great curve, "these two blighters seem to be saying 'let me out' with surprising vigour." He then opened his eyes and looked back at her.

Padmé felt her lips draw up into a smile and she lolled her head backwards, chuckling gently as the tension of the moment shattered. "Don't be ridiculous," she said.

He smiled gently and drew lazy circles over her womb. "It made you laugh."

Padmé shook her head and reached up to him, stroking his face and running her hand through his hair; pregnancy did strange things to women, there wasn't a doubt, and yet she was certain that it did even stranger things to men…

* * *

Obi-Wan was sat alone in the large dining hall of the manor as the sun rose over the snow-covered grounds and made the land sparkle like one massive precious stone. He had never really liked the cold weather - he could remember a certain incident long ago where he had accompanied Master Qui-Gon to a distant, snowy world, one which had involved a snowball, a log and a lightsabre, and it was all best left forgotten, at least in his opinion. It didn't stop him from thinking fondly on the past, though, and he soon sat back from the table and fell willingly into his reservoir of personal memoirs.

On a mat laid out before him was a lightsabre hilt, one which he had been working on just now. It was complete except for the vital crystal, and he had just taken it upon himself to tidy it up a little. It kept his mind occupied if nothing else.

There was then suddenly a creak from the far end of the hall as the large, ceremonious doors opened and a lone figure walked through. This brought Obi-Wan firmly from out of his reverie and he looked, a little annoyed, toward the door to discern the identity of the intruder. His aggravation only intensified tenfold when he realised that it was unmistakably Count Dooku.

"Good morning, sir," he called over with his customary gruffness. "And how does this morning find you?"

"Don't insult me with such unwonted civility, Master Kenobi," Serenn growled equally brusquely in return whilst he walked toward the large dining table and took a seat, one which was a little too close to Obi-Wan for his comfort. And there he just sat in silence, glowering into nothingness.

Kenobi took a calming breath and instantly began to fiddle with the lightsabre again, looking for some kind of distraction with which to channel his irate energies. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

Serenn now watched the Jedi's fingers as they danced over the metal casing of the lightsabre, fiddling here and there with its finer elements. "Is that handgrip comfortable?" he asked with a frown, studying the weapon and finding it to be so much different to his own, and far less aesthetically pleasing.

Obi didn't meet the Count's eyes and found himself begin to tinker only the more feverishly. He then heard a rustle of material as the Count leaned forward and pointed at the 'sabre. "I find that charging port ill-placed, as well. Surely it would be better over here?"

Obi slammed the weapon onto the table and scowled at the man with such agitation that it surprised even himself; his eyes were bulging and his face was flushed red, and in in his most threatening of tones, he growled, "Can't you just keep that big mouth of yours shut?"

Serenn's brow cocked and he slowly sat back in his seat again, his hands going out to the sides as he offered Obi-Wan a small, casual smile. "Forgive me. My advice is clearly not wanted."

"You're right, it's not," Obi glowered. "This is _Anakin's _lightsabre, not my own… He made it whilst he was imprisoned and it just needs finishing."

"Finishing? Whatever for?"

"For his children."

This answer seemed to fracture the Count's overconfident aura and his eyes darkened. "I see," he muttered. "So just one between them?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't know… Maybe only one of them will become a Jedi. They might not both inherit their father's talents."

Serenn's frown deepened.

Obi-Wan heaved a great sigh. "What?"

The Count continued to stare at Obi-Wan, giving him a look that genuinely scared him. "What makes you think that it's wise?" he muttered. "I know that these children represent a hope, but to teach them the ways of the Jedi…? What makes you believe that either of them won't make their father's mistakes?"

Obi took a short breath and tried to communicate to Dooku his hope and aspirations for these two babies, something this man was obviously a little dubious about. "Not all children make their fathers' mistakes, Dooku," he said plainly. "Surely you know that?"

Serenn chewed on his tongue for a second before he conceded with a weak nod, "But of course."

Obi sat back and suddenly realised how tense the moment felt. "So what can I do for you?" he asked once more.

The Count didn't raise his eyes from the table for the moment, still seeming half consumed by his own thoughts. "Nothing, my boy," he murmured. "I just wanted --" His voice trailed away. "No, nothing…"

Obi exhaled and shook his head. "You know, I don't care how big this place is, but it's just too small for the both of us… It's too small for everyone, for that matter. People are biting other people's heads off right, left and centre and it's getting to me. I know it's getting to you, too…"

Serenn still stared into space, saying nothing.

"I know we haven't made much of an effort during our sparring bouts to get on with one another, but the atmosphere's just so… 'tetchy'. It doesn't help matters."

Serenn nodded a little. He wasn't really listening.

"And I know you're not listening to me," Obi rattled on, "which annoys me no end."

Serenn's eyes turned on him and he smirked at the Jedi Knight. "Forgive me."

Obi shook his head and gave the Count a weary look. "I can't…" he murmured.

Dooku seemed to understand and just looked away again, staring out at the white blanket over the landscape.

"Is Padmé all right?"

Serenn got to his feet and walked restlessly to the windows. "I don't know… I--"

As the Count's words shuddered to a halt, Obi-Wan felt a terrible sense of familiarity roll over him, and his next words thus came uninvited to his mouth. "You look tired," he said.

Serenn clasped his hands at the small of his back, and the dull, metal digits of his right hand curled maliciously about the flesh-and-blood fingers of the left. "I don't sleep well anymore."

Two plains of time seemed to collide and Obi-Wan had to shake his head to get himself back into focus. He swallowed hard and looked away, the coincidence too good to be true. And yet the Force did work in mysterious ways; it had eclipsed one man with another.

"I can't stop dreaming about her," Serenn went on, his body silhouetted against the crisp, bright light. "I see her there every night, over and over…"

Obi-Wan bit his lips. Premonitions were never a good thing, and he did his best to avoid them. He was about to open his mouth to speak when the great doors went again and Bail Organa, of all people, came barrelling through them as if an entire fleet of Federation tanks were on his tail. "We've got news!" he shouted, his feet pounding against the marble floors as he ran toward the two, skidding to an unsteady halt by the edge of the table. Obi-Wan and Dooku just watched him with a typically unassuming Jedi air as he bent over the table and tried to catch his breath.

"Good morning, Organa," Serenn muttered before turning his attentions back to the window. "I do hope you haven't scuffed the floors. Mrs. Tarso wouldn't be happy."

Bail might have thrown something at the man if he had had something to hand - the nearest candlestick was a little too far away - but he managed to curb his anger swiftly and he said, more to Obi-Wan than to the Count; "The Bothan spies! They've found the location of project Death Star!"

Obi's brow rose in surprise and he exchanged a significant glance with Serenn before they all rushed out of the hall together without another word.

* * *

Yoda was in the communications centre belowground as Bail arrived with Kenobi and the Count. A good proportion of the rest of the rebels housed at the Dooku mansion were already gathered here, and a giant hologram now loomed in the centre of the table, sending an ominous red glow up the walls of the chamber. Serenn and Obi-an looked up at this as they entered, trying to perceive what exactly the hologram was of.

"Ah, Master Kenobi. Master Dooku," Yoda said. "News we have."

"The Bothans have discovered the location of this super weapon," an eager young pilot nearby interposed before Yoda could continue. The boy glanced back at the large holographic map before he pointed at it. "Take a look!" he insisted.

Serenn gave the young lad a scowl before he pushed past him and walked round the great hologram, studying its every nook and cranny with his dark, turbulent eyes. "Geonosis?" he muttered, recognising the site at once. He looked to Yoda then across to Bail and Obi-Wan. "He's taken it back to Geonosis?"

Half the group hadn't a clue what Count Dooku was on about, but Bail just nodded as if it all made sense. "Yes, and we have to get ourselves there as soon as possible," he added.

Serenn looked incredibly uneasy, and one hand went to his mouth whilst the other went to his hip. After a couple of minutes of silent pacing, he asked in a low, steady tone, "How did the Bothans come by this information?"

Bail looked dubious. "The Bothans reveal their secrets to no one, Count Dooku. How should we know?"

Dooku shook his head, biting his lip in a nervous gesture. "It just feels… _wrong_," he professed.

Organa looked at Obi-Wan with one of his disenchanted looks. "Tell him to shut up for once," he murmured, and Obi-Wan smiled, covering his hand with his mouth and stroking his beard.

"Investigate this, we must…" Yoda announced at length.

"We need to invade and wipe it out!" the enthusiastic youth from before suggested, clenching his fingers into fists and shaking them.

"Don''t be ridiculous, you young fool," the Count snapped, making himself another enemy in the same breath, and the young man glared back at him with wounded pride.

"Right is Master Dooku, though," Yoda concurred. "Cautious must we be."

"This is a Jedi mission," Obi-Wan resolved, walking around the holographic map of Geonosis and staring at the flashing, red blip where the foundries of the Death Star project had been discovered. "Let me go in there first. There's no use sending everyone out there only to get killed. I think an attack of stealth rather than might is called for right now."

"I agree," Bail nodded. "We don't exactly have the 'might' to hand anyway. There are too few of us."

"And what will you do when you get there, Master Jedi?" the relentless youth continued. "What can you do against such power?"

"You might be surprised what a spanner in the works can do," Serenn interjected.

Obi-Wan looked at him and nodded gently.

"I volunteer my services," Dooku went on. "Let Obi-Wan and me go. I owe it to you all, and I fear that Master Kenobi does, too."

"But what about us?" ranted on the youth. "Are we just to sit here and train?"

Serenn walked slowly round the table to the boy, the rest of the gathering parting to allow him through. When he halted before the young man he gave him a hard stare and said, "Your time will come." He then walked on and left.

And the youth breathed again.

* * *

Padmé sat at a window high up in the attics of the hall, one which overlooked the battlements from whence she could see the distant fields. In the thick snow, one of the equines had foaled early, so she now had a small, spindly-legged baby frolicking by her side, one which was struggling to keep up with her in the thick layers of white ice.

She smiled at it, having the urge to draw it and its mother right now, but she had not the equipment to hand to do so.

It was quiet and peaceful up here and, as with most attics, it was jam-packed with old junk and long forgotten paraphernalia. There were paintings stacked against one wall, a large, old dresser, a trunk full of old clothes, and much more. Padmé wasn't naturally nosey, but she couldn't deny that she didn't get bored here at the manor with so few people to talk to, so she occupied herself by opening one of the trunks and taking an inquisitive look. It had been filled with piles of antique clothes, all being from before even the Count's time, and hidden in amongst them had been many sets of small children's clothes. It had warmed her heart to see them, and had made her think of her own little babies, who would one day be large enough to have their own little suits and their own little shoes.

She suddenly turned when she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs and saw Serenn poke his head up. "Ah, there you are," he said. "Heavens, what brought you up here?" He stepped onto the deck and gave the long, low chamber a disapproving look. "It's ghastly."

She chuckled lightly and turned back to the window. "You can see everything from up here," she said. "Look, way over in the far field, there's a mother with a foal out there."

The Count walked over and, his eyes following her pointing finger, he perceived the two blithe creatures in the distance. "Ah yes," he murmured, stooping by her side. "How curious… a foal in midwinter."

"Nature has its ways."

"Indeed."

She sighed lightly and shut her eyes as she felt his hands come to her neck and he massaged her skin gently. "Padmé," he said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I have to go."

She exhaled slowly and felt a cold chill traverse her body as one of her fears now looked set to become reality. "You're leaving?" she asked.

"Yes."

She swallowed and turned to face him so that she could look up into his eyes. "When?" she asked.

He looked pained, as though he were repentant for the suffering he was now to cause her, and he dropped to his knees before her so he could look comfortably into her eyes. "As soon as possible," he affirmed.

She looked down, her eyes glancing rapidly here and there. "But for how long?"

He didn't reply. When she looked back at him, his head was dipped down and turned a little to the side. He had no inclination of answering.

"Serenn?" she whispered.

He shook his head at length and rose those dark eyes back to face hers. "I don't know," he muttered.

She looked down and put a hand to her mouth, feeling suddenly alone and emotional. The fact that Serenn touched her and drew her into his grasp did not help matters and she consequently just burst into tears.

"Easy there," he murmured.

"You can't go," she said. "You can't leave me! I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be."

She broke away from him a little and looked into his eyes, breathing shakily and she framed his face with her hands before she drew him across to her and pressed her lips against his. He immediately yielded and opened his mouth to her, giving her the access she desired, and kissed her ardently in return; that was until he felt her hand rove down his back to the curve of his buttocks and he tore away from her. "No, Padmé," he muttered over heavy breaths.

She kept her hands on him and looked into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He gazed upon her sadly. "Not here, not now," he said, placing his hand on her large tummy and rubbing it slowly up and down. "It's not right."

She sighed gently and made do with just leaning forward into him, asking him, more or less, to just hold her, which he soon did, enfolding her in his arms. "I might not see you for a long time," she whispered.

"That's no excuse."

She smiled a little at him and tapped a tune out on his breast. "You're very sulky, aren't you?"

She felt the vibration run through his body as he allowed himself a small chuckle and ran his hands over her hair and her shoulders. "I'm afraid, Padmé. Very afraid."

"Then relax," she whispered, running her fingers in a light circles over his pectorals.

He looked down at her and took her hand from his chest and curled it into his, before he removed it and placed it gently back at her side. "I can't," he contended.

She exhaled with a final air of defeat and just shook her head at him. "You're impossible."

He smiled another time in return, but it was a limp one, after which he turned away, got to his feet and began to look around the attic.

Padmé folded her arms and watched him roam. "What do you keep up here?" she asked.

He scoffed lightly. "_I_ don't keep anything up here - I haven't a clue what most of this stuff is, but…" - He looked under some boxes and then peered around a large, old mirror - "there is something up here of mine, something that is truly mine, not merely handed-down."

He pursed his lips and put his hands to his hips before he spied out a large trunk near Padmé's side and he went over to investigate. Padmé turned and watched him as he opened the box and dug beneath the layers therein of old clothes and blankets.

"What are you looking for?" she queried.

He didn't answer for a moment until, finally discovering the sought after article, he made an embittered sigh and said, "I want your opinion, my dear. I am going on a mission with Obi-Wan to try and stop this project Death Star and… well, should I?"

Padmé frowned until the man pulled out a pile of rusty-coloured cloth from the trunk then, unfolding it, held it up against him. She felt her mouth prick up at the corners. "You kept them," she whispered.

He nodded and looked down at his old Jedi robes. They weren't as light as Qui-Gon's had been, but nor were they as dark as the ones Anakin had once adorned. They were somewhere in-between, a reddish-brown colour, and, somehow, they suited him.

"But why?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

She drew her eyes away from the robes and looked at him straight. "Why did you keep them?"

His brow rose in that characteristic way which meant he basically didn't have a clue. "I don't know," he murmured. "Perhaps part of me always knew that… I'd come back." He shrugged and looked at her hard again. "Well, yes or no?"

She got up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Go for it."

**TBC…**


	51. Serenn's Choice

**Author's Notes: **So much for rounding it off at 50 chapters… I knew it'd boil over. / Heh. This and the next part are the last of the slush, though it's grim-slush. Again, there may be slip-ups or pieces of dodgy prose, but I am quite sick of editing these two chapters, now. I need to concentrate more on Part 53, which needs to be a good piece of writing. I want it to be good.

On a side note, I reckon we'll probably end on part 54. I seem to have got these final few chapters mapped out, and unless I see a reason to make another chapter, or to split an existing one, that's where this story shall end. We'll see. It's sad, really… I don't want it to end. :( And I forgot to say last time a big thanks to **Padawanmage **for helping me with the project Death Star thing. He'll know what I mean.

**Padawanmage:** I kinda left R2 and 3PO on Geonosis, where AotC left them, and never picked them up. I don't think I've written a single line about them, so it'd be a bit late to start now. And I really don't think I'll be writing any more about the Jedi purge - I don't have the space for it, TBH. It'd unbalance the story.

**Kynstar: **I'm still waiting to see RotS a third time, and there you go, on your fourth... or fifth is it? Lucky you…

**Millie: **Look, no offence, but you managed to insult me a little with your comments on Count Dooku. I accept that you have your opinion, but there was no need for all that. If you want to read conventional Ami/Ani stories, go elsewhere - they're not my game. This is an unconventional fanfic, so expect things to go to the extremes. I'm glad you like my writing, but I would appreciate just a little more respect. If you wanna talk to me some more, email me.

**Rev042175: **Again, my thanks.

**Silverwolf47: **If you've picked up on the hints, you'll know who Dooku's son is.

**HRHpadmeamidala: **Thanks again.

**Cmdr. Gabe E.: **I think Padmé's a little too large in the belly-section to show Dooku too much love right now. ;) Heh.

* * *

**Part 51 - Serenn's Choice**

It was settled, then. Obi-Wan and Count Dooku were to leave the following morning for Geonosis. But there was little chance of Serenn getting a good night's sleep beforehand… It wasn't long until he was following the trail of blood again through the darkness, with the baby girl in his arms. He knew what he would find at the end, for he took this same journey every night, and, as expected, when he reached the extremity of the trail, he found the body of the mother, laid there in a pool of blood. He then stopped and hesitated, as he always did, before he took those few, daunting steps over to her, his heart in his mouth, and crouched down by her side, then--

/Master, wake up./

The images blurred. Time itself slowed and, with that terrible lurch of mind, where the Force rushes through one's psyche at high speed and draws one's life temporarily out of one's body, the Count had to stop in his tracks, in this temporal place, and remind himself of how to breath. The images before him began to melt away, and he could feel his consciousness drawing him back to reality; Padmé's bloody body disappeared, as did the tiny baby in his arms, and he fell, faster and faster and faster, until--

/Help her./

He shot up in bed, swallowing great mouthfuls of air, and looked around the pitch-black chamber in panic; it was the dead of night, and something was out of place. He could currently hear his own breaths in his ears, could feel the violent palpitations of his heart in his chest, and could even sense the very movement of the cells in his bloodstream, all of which indicated that his senses were on high alert. Something bad was going to happen, right here and now; nothing else could possibly have awoken him from his recurring nightmare.

/Help her/

He didn't like what he sensed right now - the room was clouded with a great emptiness, seeming to have become something of a vacuum, from whence all the life, warmth and affection had been drawn…

"Serenn?"

Dooku's heart then made a terrible, cold pop as he heard Padmé's stifled gasp, and he turned, frightened of what he might behold, to look at her, lying next to him. He could see that her skin was deathly white, and that there were many globules of sweat on her forehead, each twinkling with a feigned innocence in what little light there was.

/Help her, master./

It was then, as he shifted himself a little, that the Count felt just how physically uncomfortable he was. His left hand felt oily, and the entire side of his body, laid nearest to Padmé, felt both hot and clammy. With a terrible frown, he lifted his left hand from beneath the covers and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together; they were wet, but not with water, or even sweat… it was something much thicker and darker than that.

Waving his hand at the nearest lamp, he brought light into the room, and saw that it was as he feared - his hands were covered in blood. "Force…" he hissed, before he heaved a great breath, hurled off the blankets, and saw blood everywhere. His eyes scoured the mess in utter disbelief, and he shook his head frantically. "No," he muttered over and over, his heart pounding as he found the scarlet fluid all down his side, over his hands and, more disturbingly, beneath Padmé.

_/Two children… mother dead in a pool of blood/_

He made to touch Padmé, but then hesitated, glancing at his hands and realising that he couldn't touch her without imprinting more bloody stains upon her body. "Padmé," he just uttered desperately at last, at a loss as to what to do.

She was looking to him with such desperation and in such distress that he could hardly bear to see it. "Help me," she pleaded, before she closed her eyes and ground her teeth together in agony.

He shook his head again. "No…" he whispered. He felt her pain and her suffering as if he shared it, almost as if he had become one with her. She had lost a lot of blood, and he knew that if he didn't so something soon, and get help, she would lose her babies, too - and yet he still didn't know where to start; he just couldn't quite believe what was happening. When she next cried out, however, his rationale kicked in and he leapt from the bed and rushed out into the corridors. "Help!" he shouted, his voice reverberating round the halls. "Somebody please help me!"

* * *

But what could be done? Bhade Tarso was about as close a medic as was available at present, but never had he dealt with childbirth and its complications before. It was therefore Edna Tarso, of all people, who actually took control of things and got her head down straight away, putting everyone else to shame with her common sense and efficiency. She came to Count Dooku's room as soon as the situation became apparent to her, and there made Padmé as comfortable as she could, changing the bed sheets and bringing plenty of towels and boiling, clean water to the scene. Serenn helped her all the time, doing whatever he could to assist, but at length he just found himself in the way, and took his housekeeper's gentle advice to leave Padmé alone for a while.

And so Dooku hovered out in the hallway and there met with the din of the rebel inner circle. He made his concerns quite clear to the party, but Bail Organa, most of all, seemed intent on framing him as a histrionic and green would-be father. Organa's composure only served to aggravate the Count and upset him further, though, and it didn't take Obi-Wan long to realise that, unless someone stepped in, things were going to blow over into an unneeded and unacceptable furore; and when he saw that Master Yoda had no intention of doing anything (in order to make him do something, Kenobi secretly conjectured) Obi-Wan simply intervened and led Serenn away.

The prudent Jedi decided that it might be a good idea to clean that unsightly blood from Dooku's body, so he located a quiet 'fresher room and sat Dooku down on a unit within whilst he ran some hot water in a nearby basin. They didn't say a word between them throughout this short venture, and continued to remain silent to such a degree that Obi began to feel uncomfortable, and found himself seeking madly for something to say. He did see before him, at least, a very different side to Serenn than what he had seen before; he saw both compassion and even a certain selflessness in his countenance, and finally found himself able to believe that Dooku had indeed trained Qui-Gon Jinn. "Master Jinn said that you got like this sometimes," he therefore elected to say, finding a washrag and soaking it in the basin. "He said that you'd withdraw into your shell like some kind of tortoise, and there remain until you found a solution to things."

Dooku now seemed to come back to himself, and he slowly turned to look at Kenobi, an expression of mild wonderment upon his visage.

Obi allowed himself a small smile as he squeezed out the washrag then pressed it against the other man's arm, listening to the water as it trickled away and pattered down against the surface of the unit, leaving morbid, red splashes in its wake. "'Proud Master Dooku'," he went on, "whose only flaw was his inability to open up, to share his troubles, and to get help when he needed it the most." Kenobi then glanced up and locked eyes with the man, and they just stared at one another for a moment; Serenn looked like he'd been thrown even further off-balance than what he had been to begin with by what Obi-Wan was saying.

"I see Qui-Gon in you sometimes," Obi went on. "He inherited your recklessness, your single-mindedness, your pride… but Master Qui-Gon wasn't afraid to be open. He didn't have secrets like you have, not really."

"He had one," Serenn now said, surprising Obi-Wan by his sudden intervention.

Obi felt his brow furrow. "'One'?" he asked. "What was that? I know he fell in love once, and I know he made many big mistakes on some of his missions - I was there for many of them. And I know, concerning Anakin, that he was…"

"Wrong about him," the Count interposed.

Kenobi glared at Dooku, but didn't voice a concurrence or a disagreement. "Maybe…" he vacillated, "but what secrets did he hold from me? We shared everything. He was my friend, my mentor… he was just like a father."

A slow, grim smile flickered for but a moment upon Dooku's visage and he took the washrag from Kenobi's hands, endeavouring to clean the rest of the mess up himself.

"What?" Obi pressed on, now curious. "What did he hide?"

Serenn got to his feet and stepped into the shower unit so that he could rinse down his chest a little more easily. "He kept one thing from you… but only because he had to."

"I don't understand."

Serenn shook his head. "No… and you don't need to. Now is not the time for it."

"Then when is?"

Dooku gave him one of his disapproving looks. "My boy, Padmé is lying up there in great pain, and you want me to take some time out to discuss an anomaly from the past…?"

Obi-Wan felt that, for some reason, Dooku's use of the word 'anomaly' was inappropriate. "You can't help her. You know that."

Serenn's eyes flared up lividly and Obi-Wan knew that he'd now not only hit a nerve, but had also torn it out and thrown it out the window. "Sorry," he sighed, though he felt that the apology should have come from the other way.

Dooku didn't acknowledge it; he just stared away, bloody water trickling down his hands and seeping into the rivets and grooves of his metal arm.

This uncomfortable pause lasted for far too long, in Obi-Wan's opinion, and he opened his mouth to break the silence, but was beaten to it by the Count, who said, with a feeble smile, "Thank you for your help, Obi-Wan. You are a compassionate soul, and I am so glad that Qui-Gon trained you so well." He then tossed the washrag back to him and grabbed a towel to quickly dry himself down.

Kenobi just watched the man, and wrapped the rag around his fingers, over and over, without thinking, whilst he mulled on his thoughts. "Was it you who preached to Master Qui-Gon that nothing ever happens by accident?" he eventually asked.

Serenn stared at the Jedi and paused for a moment before he nodded slowly. "Yes, it was me."

Obi tossed the washrag aside and gave the Count a dour look. "Then practise what you preach."

Serenn glared at him, chewing on his tongue as he studied the younger man and thought on this. "Practise it, as regards to what…?" he asked.

"Padmé," he countered, looking deep into Dooku's dark, brown eyes. "It's heartbreaking, I know but… doesn't everything happen for a reason?"

Dooku's gaze tightened on the Jedi for a moment before he then just turned and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Obi asked.

Serenn stopped just short of the exit and glanced back at Kenobi. "Where do you think?" he rejoined, before he promptly left.

* * *

The Count met with Mrs. Tarso again pretty much as soon as he stepped into the hallway that led to his chambers. She was stood waiting, outside the door to his room, and curtseyed as he approached. Serenn felt his brow furrow a little as he watched her, though, for he could discern already, both in her eyes and in her very manner, that there was something different about the way she looked at him; she still possessed that intrinsic air of deference, yet this was now tinged with an inkling of doubt, as if she finally realised that he, the 'noble and dignified' Count, had played a more significant part in recent events than what it seemed.

He didn't have time for all this, though, and got straight to the point. "How is she, Edna?" he asked.

Mrs. Tarso continued to look at him warily before she uttered, in a more subdued tone than usual, "She isn't well, sir. I admit that I have concerns for her. As you already know, she has lost a lot of blood…"

Serenn sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of a way out of this situation, of a key to Padmé's salvation.

"I fear that she is in grave danger, sir," Edna finally said, and Dooku met her eyes once more.

"It was obvious," he muttered. "She shouldn't have bled like that… And I'm sure it's too soon for her children to be born, far too soon…" He paced a little, trying to think of what to do, until he felt Edna place her hand upon his arm, something which surprised him a little, and he turned to look at her.

"Sir…" Mrs. Tarso whispered gently. "It's not my place to enquire as to why, but… the young lady is asking for you."

The Count stared at her and again saw the queries burning in her eyes; she was curious - who wouldn't be? - by the tremendous turn of events across the past few months, and though she had been swept off her feet, keeping everyone in this rebellion fed and comfortably housed, she was still left with many unanswered questions. She had seen Dooku's metal arm, of course, but had never asked about it; she could sense the affection between Padmé and her master, yet she hadn't questioned it; and she had known that young Padmé was pregnant, yet she had made no enquires as to why she was now here, or where the father was. And now Serenn could see that she was trying to add things up, and fill in the blanks of this equation, and every time she attempted to do so, she came out with an incredulous answer, something she couldn't quite bring herself to believe…

Dooku looked down, feeling a little guilty now he thought on this. He would never be able to explain things to her, and - though he probably owed it to her - he had no intention of doing so, either. Perhaps it was better this way. "Let me see her," he finally uttered.

Edna nodded and walked back into the room, whilst the Count rubbed his beard in a nervous gesture and followed.

Padmé did indeed look ill - she was whiter than her sheets, and her skin burned with a terrible fever. Serenn shook his head, dismayed at the sight. The room itself was cluttered with pails, filled with bloody water, and soiled towels, and Dooku could now only admire Edna for her nerve and fortitude in this. He walked to the bedside and set himself upon a stool, before he reached out and took one of Padmé's hands, clasping it between his palms. He felt Edna's eyes on him, but he didn't care; he had nothing to hide.

"Padmé," he whispered, wiping her forehead with his hand and watching her tired eyes stir at his touch.

"Serenn," she said as she set her sights upon him, smiling weakly. "You came back."

He offered her a faint smile in return. "Of course I did," he said. His smile then faded away as he listened to her fitful breathing and felt her anguish like a pounding, dark presence in his mind. "Are you in much pain, Padmé? Please tell me."

Her body seemed to answer for her, and she winced at the throbbing in her groin, and gasped out, "Yes."

He looked down, feeling that terrible sensation of powerlessness overcome him again, making his limbs tremble and his mind reel. He had to do something. Now that he was here, he couldn't just sit back and wait for his dream to be realised. He could feel it in his gut - she was in more pain than any woman should be in childbirth, and if something wasn't done…

Suddenly, he felt Padmé's grip tighten on his hand and she cried out in anguish as a lengthy contraction tore through her body.

"It hurts so much…" she groaned once the pain subsided.

And Force, didn't he know it? He could feel it rattling his nerves, and it didn't take him a moment longer to resolve to take action; surely Obi-Wan was wrong? Surely he could help her?

He leant over and kissed her sweaty forehead. "I'll be back soon, Padmé," he whispered, "I promise." He then turned and marched away before his emotions got the better of him; he couldn't bear to see her in such agony and suffering. He owed it to her to help her; she needed him now more than ever.

* * *

"She needs help," Serenn thus said as he discussed the matter with Bail, Obi-Wan and Yoda, who were now holding something of a tense vigil in the sitting room. "She's very ill."

Obi looked down with a sigh but didn't say anything - he'd already made his feelings on the matter quite clear to the Count - and Yoda, consecutively, only nodded sadly, unable to offer any advice on the state of affairs for once. Hence, it was Bail, as always, who uttered the first words, proving again that he was sometimes too rational for his own good; "But where can we get help so quickly? If we call someone in, we are going to have to ensure that they are trustworthy. The slightest leak of information and this insurgency shall be doomed forever… We won't just lose her, we'll lose everyone."

Serenn glared at him; this thought hadn't really occurred to him, but he couldn't care less about anyone else right now. His dark and possessive nature had again consumed his reason, and he wouldn't hear any of it; "I told you before she was ill," he growled, "but did you believe me, Organa? No. And now that you realise I was right, you opt to _deny_ me the help she so urgently requires…?" He barked out a terribly bitter laugh. "If she doesn't receive help soon, she will die. Do you want that on your conscience, senator? Do you?"

"No!" Bail countered, clearly torn by the delicate nature of the issue. "But we have to put things into perspective... I am a long-time friend of Padmé's and this is upsetting me just as much as you--"

"Just as much as me?" Serenn interposed.

"Yes!" Organa went on. "But if we call someone in, then we pretty much expose ourselves to the outside world, a world we are not sure we can yet trust." He sighed and looked down. "The Emperor is out to kill people like us, and we are too small a faction at present to be able to defend ourselves from his power. He'll kill us all."

Serenn wafted an angry hand at him. "There are people on this planet, there must be," he conjectured, looking to Yoda to intercede on his behalf. "How dangerous can it be, to bring a local in to help?"

"If we bring anyone in they shall recognise Padmé, and they shall certainly recognise you!" Bail countered ardently, drawing Dooku's attention back onto him. "We just cannot find someone speedily enough, not someone we know can trust, and if we go for the nearest local doctor, who may or may not be able to help her anyway, then we risk _exposure_, and if the slightest hint of any of this seeps out --"

"Oh, spare me!"

"Is it worth the risk, Count Dooku? Is it?"

"Of course it bloody well is!" the Count bellowed, walking away to the window and putting his hands to his hips with a sigh; he was unable to quite believe what was happening and how Organa was reacting to this. He felt the pain swell in his chest like a living presence, and could hear the whispers of the dark side in his ears, telling him to follow his passions and to do whatever he desired… How he wanted to give in to it right now, how he just wanted to surrender to it and save Padmé.

"Mmm…" Yoda sighed at length. "Painful and difficult this situation is. A hard decision you must make, old friend."

Serenn's brow cocked as Yoda's voice shattered his dark reverie, and he glanced back over his shoulder at the Jedi Master and stared at him. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"A difficult decision you must make," Yoda repeated, pointing at him.

Serenn felt a terrible feeling overcome him, as if ice-cold water, rather than blood, was now flowing round his veins. "What are you saying?" he asked thickly, his fears tightening their hold round his throat and suffocating him.

"In your house is this rebellion housed," Yoda explained. "Therefore your responsibility it is…"

"Master…"

"Decide you must, Serenn, between your heart and your head. Decide you must between the life of one or of many."

Dooku's eyes widened and he shook his head violently. "No, Master Yoda, don't do this to me, I beg you."

Yoda closed his eyes and looked downwards. "Sorry I am, Serenn. But only the truth do I tell."

The Count gave his old mentor such a glare that it was probably better the latter hadn't seen it. "Well, thank you, Master Yoda. I really appreciate your support." He then began to walk away, but Yoda thumped the floor with his cane and shouted, in a surprisingly harsh voice. "Run from me, you shall not, Serenn Dooku!"

The Count shuddered to a halt and looked darkly at the diminutive Jedi, before he took several deep breaths and dragged himself back before him.

"Better," Yoda nodded, before he angled his head up to look deep into the Count's eyes. "Difficult the situation is. Dark the times are, but a hope for the future there is, and time this needs to mature. Jeopardise this mission now, allow your heart to rule your head, then eternal darkness do I foresee." He poked the Count with his cane. "In your hands are we, Master Serenn Dooku."

* * *

And so Count Dooku walked alone through the halls of his manor, numb and forlorn. He had a choice to make, yet not the will to make it: How could he balance the life of the one he loved against so many others? Would his attachment lead the rest of the galaxy into a pit of darkness, from whence they could never return? Would his lust and greed take them there…?

But this wasn't lust and greed - this was simple love and caring. How could he let Padmé perish just to save so many insignificant others? ('Insignificant to you, perhaps,' the voice in his head thus sneered, 'But each one will mean as much to someone else out there as Padmé does to you…')

_/Two children… a trail of blood… mother dead/_

"I need you more than ever, old friend," he whispered to the solemn walls and suspended tapestries. "How can I make this decision?"

The air shifted and broiled with itself, spiralling around the Count as if he were the centre of gravity.

You cannot save her./

Dooku hadn't wanted to hear that and he glowered angrily at the empty space around him. "Don't you do this to me as well, Qui-Gon, please."

/Jedi or Sith? Ally or Foe? Lover or Abuser? Loyalist or Traitor? Father or Destroyer? Master or Apprentice/

Serenn could have knocked his head against a wall. "For the Force's sake, I don't need this right now! This isn't about me, it's about her."

/You are _part _of her./

The Count sighed and collapsed against a wall, sliding down it until he hit the floor. "What are you talking about now?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

/You have given yourself to her. You are part of her./

"Then why can't I be sacrificed? Why must she die?"

/We all die eventually. I am sure you once said so./

"But why have I been given so many years, and she so few? Tell me that!"

/It was her choice./

"To what, perish? The children are Anakin's fault!"

/The fault equally lies with you./

Serenn ran his hand back over his head and stared at the floor, feeling the tears roll down his face. "I know… but sometimes one forces things on another that they shouldn't. Sometimes one makes mistakes, and believes that they have a right to possess something that is never theirs to take. Sometimes --"

/You have learnt much in these recent times./

Dooku nodded stiffly. "Yes, but it has been costly knowledge."

/You cannot save her/

"So you keep saying…"

/But you can be with her./

He looked up again, almost as if he expected his former Padawan to materialise before his eyes, but he saw nought but darkness. "That's not enough, though… She wants to be a mother to these children, to watch them grow and to raise them, and yet I've known for a long time that she can never have that…" He sighed again. "And even _I _won't be there for them."

/They shall be well cared for./

Serenn didn't seem as enthused as his dead protégé. "If you say so, old friend…" he muttered. He then sat there in silence for some time before it occurred to him that precious moments were currently trickling away like grains of sand through his fingers, and he shot back to his feet once more. "I need to be with her now," he resolved.

/Yes. She wants you to be there./

He shook his head and began to walk away. "What have I done to deserve her love?" he asked. "It's simply implausible."

/You have become the Jedi she misses, the ally she needs, the lover she craves, the loyalist she aspires to, and the father for her children that she desires./

Dooku's steps died away as he drew to a slow halt, and he stared, with a creased brow, into the distant gloom of the corridor. "You think so?"

/I know so./

"If only time were not against me…" he mused, before he exhaled slowly, then picked up his feet again and ran.

* * *

And so Serenn returned to Padmé's side, took her hand back in his, and prepared himself to be there with her every step of the way. "Don't leave me," she said breathily, as soon as she knew he was there again, and he said in return, utterly without question, "I won't."

The hours of darkness gave way to dawn, then to morning, and Padmé's agony only continued. Mrs. Tarso was there all the time, doing her best to soothe the pained young lady and assist her in her labour, whilst Serenn sat there, offering his support, but powerless to do anything other. Padmé lost more blood and her strength ebbed with every moment that past, but she endured and fought on. A fervent fever raged through her body, and her skin burned unlike anything the Count had ever felt before, and yet still she hung in there, striving to bring her children into the world.

Midday came, and went, then the afternoon came, then went, and the evening thus set in.

With every hour that past, Serenn strove to etch Padmé's memory into his mind, to savour her every breath and movement as he felt her struggle within become too great a thing for her to bear. He held her hand and spoke to her and tried to give her the comfort she desired and, though it heartened her a little, he knew that he just couldn't save her…

It was drawing toward midnight once more when, tired and weary, Padmé's face again contracted into an agonised expression, and she screamed out in pain as a severe contraction tore through her body. Edna tried to soothe her, to keep her calm, but it was of no use - nothing could ease her affliction. Tears were streaming down her face as she now pushed with as much strength as she could muster, and then, after these many hours, the air was finally broken by a child's cry.

Padmé allowed herself a moment to breathe as she listened to that wonderful sound, whilst Serenn swallowed and eventually forced himself to turn his eyes upon the ominous child.

In her arms, Edna now cradled a small, bloody baby, which she wrapped tightly in a blanket and rocked him in an effort to appease his already incessant bawling. "A boy," she said, stroking the child's face and bringing him to the Count, who took the shrieking son of Darth Vader reluctantly into his arms. As soon as he touched the child, he felt a terrible chill run right through his system, and he swallowed, staring at the boy warily; he then cast aside his aversion to the baby, and propped him up in the crook of his arm, angling him toward his mother so that she could see him; "There, Padmé," he whispered, "Here's your son."

Padmé managed a weak smile as she looked upon the child, and she unsteadily reached out toward him. Serenn saw that she was struggling to do even this, though, so he took her hand in his and guided it to the child, whereupon she stroked his little face and body; "Hello, Luke," she whispered with an enervated smile.

Serenn was heartened by this little scene, where Padmé's happiness outshone her anguish for but a moment, and it sent a small thrill through him; but soon Padmé had to turn away and cry again as more painful contractions charged through her body, threatening to draw her brittle life away. Serenn gave her his hand again and tried to simultaneously hold the squealing baby boy with the other as Padmé put in this last bout of effort to bring her second child into the world.

It was an agonising few minutes, as Padmé screamed and cried, tears rolling down her pale cheeks, until her body unclenched and Edna took up the second baby. But there was then only silence…

Padmé lay back, panting fearfully when the second child did not speak. "What's wrong?" she whispered, her face sweaty and pallid as she turned her eyes on Serenn, knowing this quiet lull was not a good sign.

The Count looked equally troubled and made eye contact with Mrs. Tarso, who gave him an apprehensive glance in return. He swallowed and got to his feet; "Bring her here," he said; he knew already that the child was a girl. He had known for a long time.

His housekeeper walked over and handed the small, second baby to him, whilst she took the firstborn from Dooku in turn, and then stood nearby, watching anxiously.

Serenn held the girl with the utmost of care and looked down into her little face; it was indeed the same girl he had seen in his dreams, albeit much more still and quiet; she looked as weak as her poor mother, and that made his heart pelt with fear. He exhaled shakily and could feel Padmé's fatigued eyes on him as he then rose his hand over the baby's little body and placed two fingers hesitantly over her tiny brow. He then closed his eyes and reached out to her…

Both Padmé and Mrs. Tarso watched Serenn with baited breath. Even the little boy, already christened Luke, was quiet as he waited for his sister to rouse.

The girl was such a small baby that Serenn could quite easily have balanced her in his palm, but he held her quite securely in his arms as he searched for her signature through the Force. When he finally found it, it was a terribly weak one, but the baby did at least respond to him, and he encouraged her to come back into the light, to open her eyes and to greet her weary mother.

And consequently, after several unbearable minutes, the girl finally opened her mouth and cried with wild abandon!

Serenn opened his eyes, looking down into the small, pink face of the child with relief, and smiled widely, whilst Edna put a hand to her face in astonishment and laughed whilst she rocked the little boy.

The Count promptly turned back to Padmé and sat down again by her side, kissing her forehead and showing her the baby girl. "You have a daughter as well, Padmé," he said. "A beautiful daughter."

Padmé, though by now completely exhausted, still managed to show her own sense of relief as she realised her second child was all right, and she smiled again as she gazed upon her little girl. "She's beautiful," she whispered, reaching out to hold this one now that her labour was almost over. "They both are."

The Count handed the girl over and Padmé took her tenderly against her chest, staring dotingly upon the child as she held her there.

Serenn sat back and admired them both now, and he couldn't help but feel an odd sensation of pride flush through him; they looked so perfect. He then drew himself onto the bed by Padmé's side and put his arm round Padmé's shoulders, kissing her on top of the head as he stared down at the baby from there. "She's just like you," he murmured.

"Don't get sentimental on me," she replied with such a hint of her old gusto that it heartened him.

"Oh, we all get sentimental when a new child is born," Edna piped in, coming toward the new mother holding Luke. "Well done, miss," she said. "You have two beautiful children."

Padmé smiled her thanks to the caring old woman and asked for Serenn to take away the girl whilst she took hold of her son, now, for a moment.

Mrs. Tarso leant down and beamed as she handed over the boy and watched the mother cradle him.

Dooku clutched the girl tightly as he also monitored Padmé holding her son; he didn't like the child - he even felt a strong inclination to dislike him, though there was absolutely no reason for it. "He's his father's son," he muttered as he and young Luke seemed to, momentarily, lock eyes.

The boy was more robust than his sister, and quite lively, moving his little limbs about with much zest, in a manner that only made Padmé laugh. "Little Luke," she whispered, besotted by the child and kissing him upon the head.

Serenn looked away at the baby girl again and stroked her tiny face. "And what of the girl?" he asked. "What shall you name her?"

Padmé sighed and paused for a moment as the pain within her grew for a second. "We never thought of a girl's name," she said. "We thought we were only having a boy."

Dooku felt his sense of happiness darken; 'we'… That meant that Anakin had helped to choose the boy's name, and Serenn knew immediately that naming the firstborn 'Luke' was wrong; it would be a fine giveaway as soon as the father ever came across the child. And yet, despite his better judgement, he couldn't say no to Padmé; it was her wish, and he had to respect that.

"So what would you like to call your daughter?" he softly enquired again, giving Padmé's shoulder a rub. "She needs a name, too."

Padmé leaned back and angled her head about slowly so that she could set her sights upon her daughter once more. She looked between the dark-eyed girl and the dark-eyed Count several times before she seemed to ponder on things for a moment.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted, though, when another wave of pain broke forth within her, and she cringed, taking in a sharp breath as the throbbing got worse.

Serenn's hand gripped her shoulder more tightly. "Are you all right?"

She allowed herself a moment to recover before she said, not meeting his eyes. "Serenn, I want you to name her."

The Count looked absolutely astounded. "No, Padmé, I can't…" he said. "It's not my place to, it's--"

Padmé screamed harshly now and Serenn could see all was far from well. "Edna!" he called, and the housekeeper rushed to Padmé's side to help. Both the children began crying at once as Serenn took Padmé's hand and Edna rushed to take Luke from his mother's arms.

"Serenn," Padmé gasped in a faint, weakened voice, looking between her daughter in his arms and his face again. "Take care of my children."

The Count felt his throat burn - he could feel that sensation again, swilling about in his stomach, that cold and knowing fear that he was going to lose her. "Padmé, you'll get well again…" he insisted. "Please just hold on."

"You can't save me, Serenn," she said.

He inhaled ruggedly and allowed a tear to roll down his face; she had said that to him before, some time ago, and she had been right then… How many people had to tell him that before he truly believed it? He bowed his head and tried to control his emotions, to subdue his fear and anxiety…

"Promise me…" she implored, "Just promise you'll take care of my children."

"I'm not going to be here forever, Padmé," he murmured sadly. He then looked at her for a long time and knew that he had to do something, that he had to do all in his power to help her and her progeny. "But I'll do what I can," he resolved at last.

She gave him a small, gratified smile. "Thank you, Serenn," she whispered.

And then, with a final breath, she was gone…

**TBC…**


	52. Obligation

**Part 52 - Obligation**

Serenn lay alone on his bed that evening, with the exception of the baby girl, who he had laid by his side. He stroked her belly and watched her little eyes as they took him in, her tiny mouth rising into what looked like a smile; he was sure she couldn't see him properly, but he could sense that she liked him. The Force was clearly strong with both her and her brother, which was to be expected, but he felt closer to this one. Perhaps he could see more of her mother in her than in Luke, or maybe he just saw too much of Anakin in the boy. Or maybe…?

He shook his head, casting all his thoughts aside. What did it matter?

Rolling onto his back, he then lifted the baby onto his chest and held her there whilst he caressed her little body with his metal fingers. She made a small, contented sigh, and clubbed her tiny hands into fists, beating them arbitrarily against his abdomen.

"So even you will abuse me, little one?" he smirked, looking down at the girl. She offered him another adorable smile, as if she understood him, and he was sure she tried to laugh, though he wasn't confident a baby of this age should be able to. He shrugged inwardly and just stared at the ceiling.

There was a hole in his heart right now, a great empty block, where a part of him seemed to have been pulled out. He was covered in holes, if the truth be known, his every loss in life dealing an extra blow to that fragile fabric, yet never had a segment as large as this been hacked from his soul; Padmé's loss had rendered him into little more than a numb, empty shell - or, at least, it would have, had it not been for this child.

Or perhaps he should say 'children', yet the boy didn't click with him; he saw Anakin every time he looked into that boy's bright, blue eyes, and it only enraged him. The girl was different, and she would grow up to be different, too - he knew that, even if he knew he wouldn't be here to see it.

"What to name you?" he then pondered. He tried to ignore all this grief for a moment, and to concentrate on the little, bright light sat on his chest; Padmé had bestowed upon him this great task and honour, of naming her daughter, but he wasn't finding it easy.

He pursed his lip and tried to think of a name that Padmé would have approved of, something classy, yet not too old-fashioned, something pretty to befit the girl, yet not something to belie her authoritative nature - for that is what she would encompass; no daughter of Senator Amidala's would comprise of anything other.

Serenn shook his head - he'd been given so many tasks and missions throughout his life, yet none had he found so difficult as this. A child wore their name throughout their lives, a mark that their parents gave them, along with their blood and all manner of other unwanted genetic traits. He had been named Serenn by his parents, that faceless name that so many of his forefathers had carried, because that was what had been deemed right by the aristocracy of Serenno. For some reason, there had been a need to prove that the values and peoples on the planet were an unchanging thing, and every generation seemed to wear the same names as the last; and yet every Serenn had been different, contrary to the principles that their inherited name symbolised. It was all a sham. It always had been.

"It wouldn't be right to call you Padmé," he surmised. "For you're not Padmé." He looked at the girl, who looked back. "You're different. You have your mother in you… but you also have your father." He looked back at the ceiling whilst the child seemed to settle on his breast, lulled by the gentle motion of his lungs as they inflated and deflated beneath her.

"Luke Skywalker," he muttered, trying to gain some inspiration from her brother's name. "Luke…" He gave the girl another glance. "Must it complement _his _name?"

He thought on this for another moment before he took the girl up gently in his arms and sat upright, watching her little face as she fell into a deep slumber, blissfully unaware of everything that was happening right now.

It was then that there was a quiet knock at the door and Obi-Wan Kenobi peered in. Serenn gave him a quick glance, but didn't say a word, and soon restored his sight to the little girl. Obi-Wan wasn't deterred by this show of aloofness, though, and he soon just walked in and took a seat opposite the Count, on a nearby stool, electing to watch the man until he chose to speak.

After some time, Serenn finally shifted himself a little and realised that he wasn't going to get out of this. "So, Obi-Wan," he said in a quiet voice, so as not to disturb the sleeping infant, "What can I do for you?"

Obi opened his mouth to speak, but his words faltered, and he found himself saying, "I'm sorry about Padmé… She was so young, and so healthy, but…"

The Count sighed and looked down again at the little girl, as though she were the most precious thing left to him in the universe. "Why did she have to die?" he muttered, swallowing convulsively as he tried to keep his grief down. "Why couldn't I save her? I… I just wasn't strong enough…"

"You couldn't have saved her," Obi-Wan said. "No one could have."

Dooku didn't look so convinced, and had to get to his feet to stall his anger; he rocked the child gently in his arms as he walked across to the window and stared out over the landscape, a landscape currently swathed in darkness.

Obi-Wan pitied the man a little, and yet there was part of him that could never forgive him, because he had done so much. Now that he was here, and he saw one of Padmé's babies in the Count's arms, the thought that Padmé had died for these two, inopportune children sent a tremor of rage through his body; they had been the mere product of two men's struggles to possess her, and she was now dead because of it. He consequently turned his eyes back up to glare at the Count, and said suddenly, "You do realise that this is all your fault, though, don't you? That this is all just a horrid, knock-on effect from the events you set into motion on Geonosis, when you took Padmé under your wing?"

Obi couldn't quite understand where his sudden passion and anger had come from; he had never loved Padmé, at least not like Anakin and Dooku, but he had cared for her as a friend and an ally. She had made mistakes, but she had been a strong and compassionate soul, and never had she deserved any of this, to become nothing more than a prize fought over by two impassioned men. "I can hardly bear to think on it," Obi went on in disgust, unable to look Dooku in the face as he felt the other man turn his eyes on him. "Of that poor girl, who suffered so much, and who has now _died_… And all because of you…" He shook his head, his face creasing as he attempted to comprehend recent events. "And now we have to go back to where it all began," he muttered sullenly, "and try to set things 'right'."

His last words came out so bitterly that it left a terrible taste in his mouth, and he could only continue to look away, for he was afraid of Serenn's response.

Needless to say, Dooku was sorely wounded by Obi-Wan's stringent honesty. Part of him yearned to fly into another of his rages, and yet, as he stared at Padmé's daughter, his tender and more human side took precedence over this and reduced him to a degraded wreck. "I don't need reminding of all that," he said sadly. "I can't reset history, my boy. But I can do my best to try."

"'Try not, do or do not', Dooku. Or can't you remember that?" Obi grumbled on.

Serenn didn't say a word. He just rocked the child in a numb daze.

"She's a pretty little girl," Obi-Wan now said, suddenly desperate to flee the matter.

"I know," the Count muttered.

"What is she called?"

Serenn vacillated for a moment before he looked back at Kenobi and stared at him. He then said, with a decisive nod, "Leia. She's called Leia."

"Leia?"

Dooku nodded.

Kenobi glanced away and made a gesture with his eyebrows that was extraordinarily similar to one of the Count's expressions. "'Luke and Leia'." He smiled. "It's a nice name. I like it."

Serenn stroked the girl's head and looked away. "I suppose that's an added bonus," he murmured, "though whether you approve or not is negligible."

Kenobi smiled weakly; it was something of a strange relief to know that elements of Serenn's patrician manner still remained, even now.

"Everything's gone wrong," the Count suddenly uttered, staring into space as he mulled over the events of the past twenty-four hours. "It shouldn't have ended like this."

"I know…" Obi whispered, "but it hasn't ended. Not yet." He got to his feet and paced tentatively toward the Count, lifting a finger to point at the child. "You carry Padmé's legacy in your arms. And Anakin's, I dare say."

Dooku gave Obi-Wan a cantankerous scowl as he mentioned that boy's name. "Perhaps," he murmured. The Count mercilessly blamed himself for what had happened to Padmé - the fact was that he could _only _blame himself for much of it - but he blamed Anakin, too; it was Skywalker who had, in an attempt to wipe any trace of him from Padmé's body, brutally raped his alleged 'beloved', and it was he, the purported Chosen One, who had thus begotten a child on her - or rather two children - which had consequently been her death.

Serenn's gaze darkened, his muscles tensed and his heart pounded with fury; suddenly, Anakin was the murderer, and he was now stood over Padmé's body, thrusting his lightsabre through her heart, and sending her to her doom.

His metal fingers tightened slightly on the child in his arms - yes, it was _Anakin's_ fault. Darth Vader had taken Padmé away from him!

Serenn blinked before he then turned to Kenobi. "I suppose that you have come to bring me to heel, yes?" he asked. "To ensure I keep to my word and accompany you on this mission?"

Obi-Wan had fallen into too much of a hard-faced mood to now feel shamefaced about the rapidity with which they had to depart on this assignment, despite Padmé's sudden loss; "We have to leave," he said firmly, "We just can't postpone it any longer…"

The Count stared away once more and looked at little Leia. He felt a large lump in his throat, but managed to swallow it down after a tense moment; everything was suddenly coming back to him at once, and an impending departure made dealing with it all so much more difficult. He eventually managed a bitter smile and said, "What a pathetic man I am. I'm mourning for a woman who was never mine to have… for a woman less than a third of my own age." He shook his head and felt his throat tighten. He wanted to grieve, but he wouldn't allow himself to; he didn't have the time to mourn.

He then, to make matters worse, suddenly felt Obi-Wan's hand on his shoulder, and he bit his lip, trying not to show his grief to the younger man, a man who, despite everything, could still show him mercy and sympathy.

"The Force's will be done," Kenobi said as he glanced down into the face of the young baby girl and smiled at her. "The Force's will be done…"

* * *

And so little Leia was reunited with her brother in their provisional nursery, whilst Serenn returned to his room and donned those robes of old for one last time. On went the trousers, the tunic, the brown boots, and leather belt… it was just like old times. Even his hair was the same length as it had been in his Jedi days, though it was now a completely different colour. When he finally hooked his lightsabre onto his belt and looked at himself in the first mirror he found, he felt a little odd, but he felt complete; things had come full circle for him, and now all that remained was this final task, this final duty, one he would do for the Jedi he had killed, the people he had harmed, and the woman he had loved.

As he walked out into the corridors, he could not resist the temptation to go to see Padmé's children for what might be the last time. They had been put up temporarily in what had, conveniently, years before, been the old family nursery; it had recently been transformed into another bedchamber, but its tenants had been relocated with other people for the time being, until the children found a new home.

Serenn couldn't remember having ever been in this room himself as a child, though he was sure he must have been. But that was a long time ago now…

As he stood over the two makeshift cribs, the evening moonlight shining hauntingly through the windows, he thought again over everything that had happened. How had it come to this? How had he allowed himself to be so misled, to be made to do the bidding of Darth Sidious, to use Padmé as a pawn in a game he never had control of, to take away everything from her that wasn't his to take, to put her in terrible danger, to leave her at Darth Vader's mercy, then to wind up alone with her two children and be practically responsible for her death?

He felt a stray tear roll down his face and fall, with a gentle patter, just next to Leia's face. The girl seemed to stir very slightly at this and extended a tiny hand over toward the fallen tear, making the Count smile, and he reached down to her once more, to stroke her face.

"Knew that here I would find you."

Serenn rose his eyes and now saw Master Yoda sat over the other side of the room, on top of a pile of nondescript boxes. Either the Jedi Master had come in unannounced, or he had been there all the time; either way, the Count found it incredibly irritating.

"Beautiful they are. Very beautiful," the Jedi Master mused on, nodding to himself. "Yes. And strong is the Force with them. The boy in particular."

Dooku felt his brow furrow. "The girl is just as strong."

Yoda's ears cocked a little. "Think so, do you?"

Serenn stood up straight and walked across toward Yoda, before he knelt before the diminutive creature and stared him hard in the eyes. "Can you not feel her powers? They're there, surging beneath her skin…"

Yoda made a faint chuckle. "Mhm… yes. An affinity to the girl, you have."

Serenn blinked once but did not shift his line of sight. "The boy does not 'harmonise' with me… He feels cold." He ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought on this. "He shall be reckless."

Yoda didn't agree or disagree, something which didn't placate the Count at all.

"What reason for this is there, hmm?" Yoda quizzed him at length. "Thought you of that?"

Serenn shook his head gently, bemused; "Reason for what? The boy's 'coldness'? My affinity to the girl?"

Yoda again didn't clarify anything; the small Jedi only looked concerned, almost a little disturbed, as if he wasn't at all happy by the state of affairs. He just sat there with his pale green eyes set on his old Padawan. "More hope have you for the girl?" he murmured after a moment.

"She will be prudent and cautious, like her mother. I am certain of it."

"Not impulsive, not spontaneous, not proud, like her father?"

Serenn's gaze tightened on the small Jedi and he exhaled slowly, studying Yoda's visage with care. "Yes, she will be that, too… but she will be more balanced than the boy."

"Or so think you."

"Yes, so think I!" he growled, making to get to his feet until Yoda's cane hit his shoulder and he stayed put.

"A word I want with you, old friend."

Dooku sat back on his knees and waited; he suddenly felt like a Padawan again, and could almost see the carpet and décor of Yoda's apartments in the Jedi Temple build themselves up around him; he could almost feel the brush of his Padawan braid against his shoulder, and the draft at the back of his neck, beneath his cropped hair, all over again.

"Into exile I am to go," Yoda said. "No longer safe is it for me to here remain. Alone must I be."

Serenn still didn't say a word. He just sat there in silence.

"A decision for the children we must make. With Master Kenobi have I already had words, but your opinion I would also like on the matter."

Dooku nodded a little, inviting his old mentor to continue.

"Only one child does the Emperor know of, but two here we have. In more danger is the boy. Far away must he be sent."

Serenn inclined his head once more.

"Therefore to Tatooine, Master Kenobi and I feel, he should be sent."

Serenn felt his nose wrinkle. "Why Tatooine? It's a planet of pirates, scum and villainy. Surely there are better places?"

Dooku then grunted as Yoda prodded him with his cane; "For a moment, hold your tongue," the Jedi Master griped. "Not finished, am I."

Serenn rubbed his shoulder, where his mentor had struck him, and promptly quietened.

"From Tatooine came young Anakin," Yoda explained. "There shall Anakin's son have family, and there grow up, shall he, far from war and far from the Emperor's influence. A humble life shall he lead, and a humble demeanour shall he assume."

Dooku's brow arched in disbelief. "Humble, indeed. He has traits in his blood that shall not easily be restrained. It shall be his nature to seek for a greater existence."

"So pessimistic are you!"

"Master Yoda, look in his eyes! Touch him! He's his father's son."

"As are we all. Yet like our fathers are we all? No. Too narrow-minded are you, Serenn."

The Count shook his head and looked away. "Are you sure that it's wise, sending the boy back to Tatooine, seeing as his father came from there?"

Yoda made a certain nod. "Bad memories does Tatooine hold for Anakin Skywalker. Going back there soon, I doubt he shall."

Serenn resigned himself to defeat. "Very well, I agree. I doubt I could sway you otherwise anyway. And the girl…? What shall you do with her? Send her to Nal Hutta? Or Cato Neimoidia, perhaps?"

He got another slap from Yoda's cane. "No sarcasm shall you use on me, old friend," Yoda grunted. "With Bail Organa we feel she should go. In the public eye, she may be, but safe there shall she be. Unknown is her existence, and sometimes better hidden are things in the public eye."

Dooku didn't look quite so convinced. "Organa? You'll not send her with him." He got to his feet and returned to the cots, glancing over the boy for a brief moment before he bestowed a long, fretful look upon the young girl. "Why can't she stay here?"

"And take care of her, shall you? Be here, will you?"

Serenn slowly rose his eyes, reluctantly accepting the truth he had long known; he knew that he wasn't going to be here. He just didn't want to believe it.

"Be here, you will not," Yoda stated, as if to settle this matter.

Serenn nodded dolefully. "I know," he finally confessed.

Yoda climbed down from on top of the boxes, and hobbled across the floor to his former protégé. He placed a small green hand against Dooku's leg, and Serenn subsequently dropped to his knees, by his mentor's side, and stared blankly at the floor.

"Safe she shall be," Yoda assured him. "Concern yourself, do not. Happy with this arrangement Padmé would be. No children has Senator Organa's wife been able to have - now a precious gift she shall receive and nurture."

Serenn turned his eyes on Yoda and looked deep into those green pools of knowledge, whilst Yoda reached up and patted him lightly on the arm; "Now must you say farewell to young Padmé," he whispered. "Before time for you to go, it shall be."

Serenn continued to stare and, after a moment's uncertainty, he then leant down and embraced the small Jedi.

Yoda smiled sadly and held his old friend in return, giving his final and most gifted apprentice one last pat on the back. "Miss you I shall, Serenn," he said, before he parted from the lofty Count and watched the man get to his feet. "Nice to see you as a Jedi again, it is, too, might I add."

Serenn smiled vaguely down at the Jedi Master. "Take care of the children, master."

"Worry yourself, do not. Well cared for shall they be."

Dooku nodded half-heartedly and walked across to Padmé's children to give them each one last glance. "Good luck, Luke," he murmured to the boy, before he then turned to the girl, planted a kiss on his two fingers, and lightly pressed them against her forehead. "Goodbye, Leia." He then tore himself away and made for the door.

"May the Force be with you, Serenn," Yoda said.

The Count gave his mentor one final parting look; "And you, my master," he replied, before he left without a further backward glance.

**TBC…**


	53. Paternity

**Author's Notes:** Part 53 became too much of a monster, so I split it into two! This is the talky-and-emotional-rubbish bit, and the next one's the big-fight-and-loadsa-mess bit. That shall then be followed by a chapter I would like to call 'The End'. ;) At least it'll end on Part 55 now, which is a far better number than 54.

Part of this chapter was originally destined for the scrap-heap - it had been written as a scene on Serenno, but changes in the story meant that it had to be removed. I've now found a new home for it here - it's the final conversation between Obi and Dooku if you're curious. I wasn't sure whether or not I could make it work, or the notion feasible, but hey - you decide for yourself.

**Padawanmage:** This chapter's a bit rambling, but the slush has pretty much gone now. :) The next part will be interesting.

**Kynstar:** I'm stuck on 3 times as far as seeing Rots goes right now. And there's a _digital version_…? I doubt we'll see any sign of that here in the UK! I'll have to wait for the DVD…

**HRHpadmeamidala: **Thanks!

**Silverwolf47:** I told you it would tie-in with Episode IV, didn't I? Didn't you believe me? ;) Heh.

**REV042175:** Things have been centred around Dooku's emotions lately, haven't they? There's more of that in this part, then we'll get to his fate in the next.

**Mari Skyrin-Sarker:** I think you're being a little too complimentary, but I thank you all the same! Best of luck with your own writing projects.

**Millie:** You know, I think we've made a mountain out of a molehill here. :) I hate being at loggerheads with people, and I think we've both misunderstood one another. I took offence at your comment not so much because it was about Dooku, but because it seemed to spite my comments and therefore spite me. But I think you have misconstrued me as well - most of the lamentations and stuff over Dooku in my notes are just fan rambles, little more than online roleplay; I don't physically go about mourning Dook' or anything, so I don't really feel that I "overreacted" in that case. I'm well aware that he's not real - it's all just fun and escapism. So I accept your apology, and please accept mine in return, and we'll leave it there. Peace out.

**Carolyn:** Your English is excellent! I really admire you, if you've read this story and English is your second language! And I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thank you for reading.

**

* * *

Part 53 - Paternity**

Early the following morning, Padmé's body was arranged upon a simple, wooden pyre by the frozen lake outside, and there burned in the crisp light of the rising sun. Pretty yet solemn shimmers were sent across the icy wasteland as Serenn and Obi-Wan, the lone spectators of this bleak event, watched on with their hoods pulled over their heads in respect. The morning air was chill, so their breaths hovered in small clouds before their mouths, and they each folded their arms tightly to their chests in an attempt to achieve some extra form of warmth; but braving the elements was all worth it for Padmé's sake.

"Bail will inform her family," Obi-Wan murmured after some time, "but they must not know of her children."

"It is better they don't know," Dooku replied quietly. He wasn't sure he could deal with that, anyway, of explaining everything to Padmé's parents, something which would undoubtedly lead to the subject of his attachment to their daughter… and then on to some very discomfiting questions.

He heaved a great sigh and stared hard into the flickering flames of the burning pyre. He remembered Padmé's family well, especially those two quaint nieces of hers, who had questioned him so frankly back on Naboo; none of them would ever know of Luke and Leia now. It was sad, really; for a moment, Serenn could imagine how wonderful a childhood it would have been for the twins to grow up in the Nubian lake country and to frolic around those glorious meadows under their mother's loving gaze. But that image was a fallacy, a mere dream… the children's fate would never be a light one, and they would never have any memory of their compassionate mother.

The fire before the two Jedi soon faltered to such an extent that there now remained nothing but a small flame, struggling for dear life, down amongst the ashes.

"We have to go," Obi-Wan said as he monitored the position of the sun and judged the time. "I'm sorry, but we cannot wait any longer."

Serenn didn't want to go. He could feel a cold energy in his gut, a deep remorse for Padmé that needed to be cried out; it was a profound wound that required time to heal, and part of him knew that going on this mission, whilst this wound still festered, was a bad idea. And yet he couldn't have the luxury of a period of bereavement - he had things to do, and the obstructive misery of Padmé's loss, however much it may and would hinder him, was simply going to have to be part of the luggage. "Then let us move, my boy," he murmured, giving the cinders one final, saddened gaze, before he turned and went on his way.

* * *

There was a bright light before him…

Count Dooku squinted and tried to close his eyes, but it was as if he couldn't. The glare soon dimmed, however, and Serenn thus saw a clinical and bare chamber before him. He frowned inwardly - what was he seeing now? Where was he?

The room was tiny, made up of little but four metal walls and a trellised floor, and it was so small that the Count knew it could only be a prison cell; it was claustrophobic and remarkably scary. There was no sound in this void, either - none that Serenn could hear, anyway - and he was about to turn around, to study the chamber in more detail, when he heard footsteps approaching from down the outer passage.

He stepped back toward the wall and watched as the door to the cell slid slothfully open, giving him a glimpse of the gloomy corridor beyond, which seemed to glow with a slightly reddish tint. First to walk in came a pair of military troopers. They were both human and dressed in black, their harshly chiselled faces peering out from beneath their large, shiny black helmets with a menacing arrogance; they clearly could not see him, because they looked straight _through_ him, and it was because of this that the Count realised that this wasn't any ordinary nightmare. This wasn't even an omen. This was a vision of the future; what he was seeing was going to happen.

Serenn took in a breath as he thought on this, before he then returned his attention to the scene and saw that these two soldiers were merely a precedent for the thing that followed them. Coming in next through the door, and bowing his head beneath the frame so that he could get in, was a large and terrifying bipedal beast, a great dark creature that sent such a cold chill through Dooku's body that he involuntarily clung to the wall for support. This hulking great monster was swathed entirely in black and had limbs thick with muscle. The Count wasn't quite sure whether or not it was even human at first, or whether it was truly alive, for it seemed to breathe through a noisy respirator, and showed not a fraction of living flesh to the light, but, as he looked into those two bottomless pits that passed for the creature's eyes, things soon started to fall into place and he felt a sensation of familiarity roll over him. He _knew _this thing.

As the two black-clad troopers took up their positions to either side of the doorframe, the large, black wraith marched into the centre of the tiny holding cell and stared into the far corner, at a captive that was here incarcerated, and who had, up until now, remained completely unnoticed by Serenn. "And now, your highness," the monster growled in an unearthly tone, "we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base…"

Dooku swallowed, turning his eyes to the corner of the cell and looking upon the unfortunate prisoner; and there, sat on the bench and bathed in white, was his little girl; it was Leia, but all grown up. He felt his eyes widen and his stomach collapse; it was so incredible, to stand here now and see that little baby as she would be in the years ahead. He knew it was her - there was no mistaking those eyes or her essence - and, by the stars, she looked so much like--

He shook his head. This was torture - why was he being shown this? He could hardly bring himself to watch this scene; the baby he had so recently held close upon his chest was there before him and in danger, and yet he was powerless to help, all over again… simply powerless. She was in a place where he could never reach her and in a time where he would never exist, and he presumed some high and mighty force was getting a real kick out of showing him this and jeering at the fact that he could do nothing to protect her. It was just like how it had been with Padmé, where he had been unable to do anything, just when she had needed him the most… He was powerless.

Serenn thus turned his eyes with anger upon the black monster in this scene; of course, it could only be _him_ again, his rival and his bane, the man he blamed for everything. There before him was Anakin Skywalker, in approximately twenty years time, scarred, mutilated and aged. The fact that he was plainly disfigured didn't really tally as significant with Dooku - the thing he was more concerned with was the apparent fact that, yet again, everything was Anakin's fault; Padmé was dead and Leia would one day suffer because of this stupid man, who had made the mistake of allowing one diabolically brilliant Sith Lord to twist his naïve and vulnerable mind…

'You foolish boy…' Dooku thought to himself, but this time it wasn't merely with anger, it was with pity, for, deep down, within his old, battle-scarred heart, he knew that he had been the same; or rather that he _was_ the same.

Now entering the scene, in Darth Vader's wake, came a cylindrical, hovering, black droid, one equipped with such devices of torture it hardly bared thinking about. It carried long, wiry appendages, needles and probes; it was a monster in miniature. Vader glanced at this rotund accomplice, just as if to confirm to young Leia that it was for her, before he thus took a step toward her, and then--

And then, as always, there was a blinding flash and Dooku was wide awake. His eyes focused onto the blur of hyperspace before him and he slowly came back to himself, his heart pounding in his chest all the time. "Leia…" he muttered before he heaved a great sigh and felt his throat tighten and burn. Tears waiting to be shed were queuing up in volume behind his eyes and a terrible dark pain of loss was swelling his heart to bursting point; how he wanted to give in… to grieve for Padmé, and to run back and hold little Leia in his arms, but he could not. The mission and his responsibilities would not allow it.

_/Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden./_

He closed his eyes and arched his head back against the seat, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked from the seat next to him. The two Jedi - past and present - were on their way to Geonosis in a small shuttle, and, fortunately, Kenobi was in the pilot's seat whilst Dooku was in the co-pilot one… where he had promptly fallen into an uneasy but much-needed sleep.

"What were you dreaming about?" Obi went on. "You were beginning to scare me."

Serenn's body sagged as he sat there, thoroughly disheartened. "Did I say anything?" he asked.

"No," Obi conceded, "but I could feel your inner-struggle. The Force was clawing at you, like some kind of restless feline, asking you to let it in so that it could tear out your insides."

"My pain is terminal," the Count murmured. "I deserve nothing less than this…"

"Perhaps. But those you loved… didn't they deserve more?"

Serenn's eyes turned on Obi and he studied the younger man's cold, stern visage. "Yes…" he rejoined, before he forced himself to sit up properly. "But I can do little to repair the damage I caused. That pains me, but it is true."

Obi didn't turn his eyes on Serenn at all; he simply starred out of the shuttle's windows and kept up an appearance of concentrating on what he was doing.

"I saw the future, Obi-Wan," the Count disclosed. "I'm sure I did…"

Kenobi permitted himself a quick glance at the old warrior. "I see. And what did you 'foresee'?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

"Then don't."

Dooku felt his brow twitch. "Obi-Wan, I'm not sure how you do it, but you're seriously frustrating me."

Kenobi made a quick smile. "It's a habit."

Serenn exhaled noisily and closed his eyes again, before he dropped his head into his hands and tried to find some comfort in the darkness he found there. "I can't concentrate," he bemoaned. "I'm endangering this mission. What use am I?"

Obi-Wan flicked a couple of switches and stared down at the control panel, though he was not really looking at it. "I can't do this alone," he muttered grudgingly. "I need you. The rebellion needs you."

Serenn nodded once again. "I know… I want to do this, but--"

_/'And now, your highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base.'/_

"--my mind's a mess… It's full of images and of feelings that do nothing but enclose my common sense in a mesh of irrationality. I'm just no Jedi anymore. My mind's not clear, nor are my senses, and my allegiance--"

"--Is still to the Force."

Dooku gave Kenobi a sharp glare. "Yes, but to which side?"

Obi finally turned his face so that he could look Dooku full-on. "It has no sides. We might, but it doesn't. There is only one Force. It has no halfway line, no two faces. It is one great energy field, and it binds us all, the good and the bad, whether we like it or not."

Serenn felt humbled by Obi-Wan's wise words, words he was sure he had heard before, and he could do nothing but sigh gently and shake his head at his own ignorance. "You are truly wise, my boy," he said. "I'm very proud of you."

The rest of the journey was made by the two warriors in an uncomfortable silence and it seemed an age before they arrived at the planet of Geonosis, its great, orange bulk looming up before them and filling the view screen. They passed, relatively easily, through the multitude of asteroid fields that clung to the planet in orbit, before they entered the atmosphere and those great, rocky caverns, once again, stretched out before their eyes.

They both stared at the dry and arid planet with jaded eyes. This was a place of so many bad memories, all of which rose up again, like an insufferable miasma, to come back and haunt them…

_/'So, I gather you have chosen death?'_

'_Yes.'_

'_Then so be it.'/_

This was where it had all begun, and this was where it might end.

They landed as close as they felt was sensible to the subterranean foundries of the Empire's super weapon, and opted to make the rest of the journey on foot, stalking stealthily through the canyons and sandstone walls. The land was desolate and the sun bore down upon them with little mercy, bringing an unwanted sweat to their brows. They trekked for a couple of hours, still saying very little beyond what was necessary, until, as they paced into a ravine, they were both caught completely off guard by a volley of laser fire!

The two Jedi reacted at once, lightsabres in their hands within seconds, and, whilst Obi-Wan took up his typical defensive stance, Serenn fell back into the rhythm of Form II and vaulted up the rocks, preparing to run the attacker through.

The Count landed atop a high rocky ledge, the one upon which he was certain the sniper was hidden, but, as he rose his lightsabre back behind his head, ready to strike, he was confronted, not by a man, but by a child; "No! Stop, please, stop!" it squealed, scrambling away from the focused former Jedi in panic. "Don't kill me!"

Dooku's creased brow flattened out as he stared at the perpetrator and he exhaled heavily, allowing his lightsabre to fall limp by his side. "In the name of…" he growled, deactivating the weapon and hooking it back to his belt.

Obi-Wan stared up from the canyon floor below, curious as to what was happening. "What? Who is it?" he asked.

The Count reached down and hauled the child up by the collar of his tunic, holding him aloft for Obi-Wan to see.

Kenobi's face soon hardened. "Him?" he gasped.

"Yes, _him_," Dooku growled, having, for some reason, become severely agitated by this turn of events. He leapt down from the ledge and landed smoothly in front of Obi-Wan, before he put the child down and shook his head.

"Are you crazy?" the child protested. "Take me back to my cave - there are clones looking for me!"

"Why would they look for you, Boba?" the Count groused, for it was the clone child of Jango.

Young Fett - his black hair a matted mess and his clothes worn and bedraggled - looked at Dooku with a rather surprised air, as if the answer was elementary; "They killed Poggle! They just took over and… and…"

"You think your brothers would kill you?" Obi-Wan, rather tactlessly, interceded, folding his arms in the process.

This comment afforded Kenobi a hard look from Boba. "They're _not_ my brothers!" he spat in return, clenching his fists and looking set to spring on the Jedi at any second.

Dooku saw the warning signs, however, so again took a firm hold of the lad's collar and held him in place; "I might have killed you, young one," he murmured to the child. "I could still do so. Therefore, think yourself lucky, and don't try anything foolish."

Young Fett immediately calmed as he heard this threat and he looked at the Count in terror. "You wouldn't kill me…" he whispered. "We had a deal!"

The boy paused and then looked again, harder, at Dooku, before it finally hit him as to how bizarre this meeting actually was, and that many things were more then just amiss. "What's happened?" he asked, scrutinising Serenn's long hair, metal hand and Jedi robes, "Whose side are you on now?"

Obi snorted out a badly timed fit of laughter, and thus got a harsh look from Serenn. He couldn't help himself, though - Boba's comment had just seemed so fitting.

"General Grievous isn't with you, is he?" Fett continued, looking around in fear. "He's not here, is he?"

The name of that droid general alone was enough to sober up Obi-Wan's spirits and his face promptly turned grave whilst Serenn plainly answered, "He's dead, Boba."

Young Fett seemed relived, but was clearly still uneasy about things. "I thought you were dead…" he murmured.

Dooku smiled weakly. "Oh, I'm not dead. Not yet, not yet…"

"I knew you'd come back for me one day."

Serenn swallowed hard and sighed. "I haven't come for you, lad - this was just good fortune." He paused for a moment before he then asked, "How long have you been out here?"

"Ages… it's lucky my father hoarded so many food capsules aboard the _Slave I_, or I'd be dead by now."

"You need to get out of here, Boba."

Fett's face fell sour. "You're sending me away again?"

Serenn crouched down so that he was on the same level as the boy, and there was suddenly a tenderness about him that neither Boba or Obi-Wan had really seen before, so much so that it threw young Fett's guard off a little. He listened to the man all the same, though; he still respected him.

"Boba, listen to me," Dooku murmured, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I cannot take you with me, not any more. Things have changed a lot in the galaxy over the past year or so, and the separatists are now no more. The Republic yet remains, but it has become an Empire."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

Obi looked between the two and saw a lot of history there, a history he was intrigued about but which he knew he would never now discover.

"I made a mistake," Serenn muttered.

Boba's eyes scanned Dooku's face and the boy pursed his lips, seeming to be a little unsure. "It was that woman, sir. She changed you."

The Count actually managed to smirk at the child's impertinence. "She did, Boba, and I'm thankful for it."

"Well, _I'm_ not," Boba groused. "Who's going to help me train and stuff? Where am I going to live?"

Serenn was at a loss as to answer. "I don't know."

A silence fell on the odd scene and Dooku looked up, studying the contours of the few, thin clouds overhead, each shaded pink in a dusky, orange sky; "The hour grows late," he muttered. "Let us travel a little further and rest for the night." He turned back to Fett and patted his shoulder. "I have one last task for you, Boba."

"Yes, sir?"

"Lead us to the Imperial foundry."

Boba's face broke into a smile. "No problem, sir!"

* * *

And so the unlikely twosome had become an even more unlikely threesome. They walked on until complete darkness had fallen, which rendered everywhere too indistinct for it to be safe to continue, and consequently set up camp for the night in a sandstone alcove, beneath one of the rocky cliffs. Boba had fetched along a few supplies for them all, and helped to build a tiny campfire, but was soon fast asleep on his back, with his mouth wide open, leaving Obi-Wan and Serenn alone with their campfire in a night that was growing surprisingly chill.

"How long have you known that boy?" Obi muttered.

"Since he was born."

"'Born'?"

Serenn eyed Obi-Wan darkly. "Very well, since he was _made_. Is that tone more suitable for you?"

Kenobi glared back. "I just never understood that Jango Fett," he went on after a while, before he laid back on the floor and picked up a stone. "Fancy him asking to have one of those clones for himself. Why would anyone want that…?"

"Why wouldn't one?" Serenn retorted. "What man wouldn't want a son of their own? Or a daughter, for that matter? Jango was ill-likely to get one if he hadn't taken the opportunity when it presented itself." He got to his feet and looked to the star-studded skies with his hands upon his hips. "Why can't you think outside of your own little bubble, Master Kenobi? Open your mind."

"Close yours…" Obi rejoined, rolling his pebble between his hands.

"Well sue me for hankering after normality."

Obi took his stone and clutched it tightly into one of his fists whilst his eyes bored a hole into Dooku's person. "What is normality, though?" he asked. "My concept of 'normal' is very different from yours, I have no doubt. What exactly does your glorious 'normality' entail…?"

Serenn looked down at the younger Jedi and locked eyes with him. "It entails feelings, and family… It's about having the right and the freedom to do what you will. It's about having choices."

Obi's gaze tightened on the man. "Then it's mostly about love?"

Dooku nodded. "No, but that is an important element."

Obi sighed and threw his stone, with surprising force, into the nearest wall, where it remained lodged within the sandstone. "You're obsessed," he grumbled.

The Count might have been angry by this, but he wasn't. For some reason, he was filled with sympathy toward Kenobi's inability to comprehend him and his feelings. "Very well… Let me tell you a story about the Jedi," he thus said.

Obi's brow furrowed and he heaved his body back up into a sitting position. "What?" he asked.

"Just listen now."

And Obi-Wan found that he did as he was told - Dooku still hadn't raised his voice, yet it had that edge to it that he could only describe as compelling.

"The Jedi corps was as corrupt as the Republic claimed it was. As leader of the separatists, I never said all those things about the Jedi because I wanted support or that I wanted to appeal to popular opinion - though it all certainly helped. I said it because it was true."

Obi-Wan's brow had contracted at the very words, but he was curious to hear the old man out, so he remained quiet.

"And how did I know it was corrupt?" Serenn went on. "Because I had been part of the decay."

Obi looked away, but he listened on.

"I never meant to become part of it, but I did." The Count paused for a moment and pursed his lips, pondering on how best to explain things. "Let me demonstrate to you a familiar scenario - back on Serenno, laid in a cradle, is a baby boy called Luke, the product of a liaison that, in the Jedi's books, should never have occurred. That boy is the son of a former Padawan."

Obi-Wan looked down and thought on this, making a small nod of concurrence; he was still feeling bitter and guilty over the matter of Anakin, and he didn't want to talk about that any further.

"You may think," Serenn went on, "That this boy, the son of a Jedi, is a rarity indeed, but alas, that is not so… He may be the offspring of a so-called 'Chosen One', but he is only one in what has been a long line of Jedi children."

Obi-Wan was unable to hold his tongue any longer. "What in the Force's name are you rambling on about? This is nonsense…"

Serenn looked at him again with that thoughtful-come-blank expression, and said, "How did you think the Jedi kept their 'stocks' up, Obi-Wan? Did you really believe that all Jedi come from parents found _outside _the Temple's walls?"

Obi shook his head, not in answer to the question, but in disbelief. "Talk straight, Dooku," he said, his mind fraught with ire at these blasphemous suggestions.

"A good percentage of the children entered into the Temple's crèches are children of Jedi."

Obi leant toward Serenn. "Now wait just a minute!" he said.

"I'm asking you to listen, Obi-Wan, not to intervene. I am not lying to you."

Obi glared at the Count, and the Count held his ground.

"The Jedi were an order that, like so many of the other institutions the Republic once held dear, could never live up to its expectations. It was an order which tried to enforce unenforceable rules - it tried to take away one's feelings and one's very soul. We are all people, Obi-Wan, and all sentient beings need to feel connections with others. It is only natural. The Jedi Order repressed what was only natural, and repression leads to madness. The only way some Jedi could escape this madness was to break these rules, to allow themselves to have feelings, and, as nature would have it, to produce families."

"This is impossible - we'd have known about it if things were so out of control!"

Serenn laughed, shortly and sharply, and Obi-Wan felt the sting; "Oh, the Jedi were the best cover-up artists in the Republic. They - or rather 'we' - were well trained at it. The fact is, Obi-Wan, that if these breakaway Jedi, who were nonetheless loyal, hadn't gone about breaking parts of the code, if they hadn't embarked upon these illegal relations, then the Jedi Order might have died out long ago…. Isn't it obvious that the best candidates for Jedi training always come from Force-sensitive parents? How could the Jedi ever possibly have a constant influx of Younglings if the Force-sensitive allow their gene pools to go dry?"

Obi didn't answer.

"Yes, I know, there were - and still are - many children out there who have decent Midichlorian counts, and who come from parents who show no Force potential whatsoever, but there are, and there never shall be, enough of them." Dooku sighed and looked rather grave. "I'm not telling you all this to spite you, my boy, I'm telling you the truth. It's logical - think about it."

"Then why did the Jedi always preach about not falling in love, about having no strong feelings for one another…?"

"Because they wanted to uphold their fallacy, Obi-Wan, like any other high-ranking institution."

"It was wrong."

"I know. That's part of the reason they have failed - because they needed to change. The problem was that they just never wanted to admit it."

"But love…" Obi dithered, his mind bubbling over in shock and shame at these terrifying notions, about how he might have been living a lie, "It's a weakness, a distraction!"

"Yes, but it is also a strength. Qui-Gon loved you like any father loves his son - would you deny that made him stronger? Or was that his downfall?"

Obi began to fidget and stared down at the patterns in the sand beneath him. "No… he didn't die because of that."

"Exactly."

"But Anakin --"

"Ah, Anakin… Well, there are always those who should not be trained, regardless of Midichlorian count."

Kenobi stared at Serenn for some time. "Then you think Qui-Gon was wrong to bring him in."

"I told him so at the time."

"You did?"

"Yes. But no one could have foreseen this, or anything else that has happened…"

Obi watched the flicker in Dooku's gaze as the man took a moment to mull over his own most shameful thoughts, wondering how things had come to this.

Suddenly, Boba stirred in his sleep, his small hands reaching out for an incorporeal blaster. "No, please… let me kill him…" he mumbled.

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with the Count before he sneered, "What a pleasant little boy."

**TBC…**


	54. Full Circle

**Author's Notes:** Oh, this chapter's been hard work. I've just found it so difficult, so I hope the final result doesn't disappoint too much. And apologies for the looooooong delay. ('Get it finished before Episode III comes out,' indeed.) I gave in and allowed myself to be influenced by RotS as well - this is an AU, after all, so some parallels are good - so if you read a line in this part and think you've heard it somewhere before, you probably have. ;) And the only beta this and all of my other chapters have had is me, so expect slip-ups in spelling and grammar.

**Kynstar:** Here we go - the final stretch! I hope the showdown's as interesting as you hoped.

**Cmdr. Gabe. E:** I thought that bringing Boba back just helped with continuity, and it worked well, too. I quite like young Boba.

**TheBeautifulPadmeAmidala:** You changed your name! And that Hoobastank song was perfect - it never really hit me before, but you're right.

**Millie**:D

**Padawanmage:** You know what my sword-writing skills are like - pretty bad! ;) Heh. And never mind just Anakin not playing by the rules - let's go for a free-for-all :D

**REV:** Thanks again for your kind words. I'm hoping I can make the circle complete now with these last two chapters.

* * *

**Part 54 - Full Circle**

Boba sidled on elbows and knees down a rocky ledge, at the end of one of the long, deep Geonosian canyons, and peered down, over its precipice, into a further deep abyss beyond. Columns of steam rose steadily into the air from the bottom of the cavity, creeping out of the exhaust vents of the Empire's subterranean factories which were hidden beneath the surface.

"We're here," he said, whilst Obi-Wan and Dooku crawled up to either side of him in turn.

The two Jedi cast their eyes into the chasm, looking over the rocky-red panorama, before they then exchanged glances. "We'd better find a way in, then," Obi murmured and prepared to climb down.

"I'll help!" Boba piped up. The boy looked set to bounce onto his feet, but Dooku took a firm hold of his wrist and clamped him down; "Boba," he said softly. "We must go on alone."

Young Fett looked highly let down and tugged at the Count's grip but, finding it uncompromising, just fell slack and gave the man a sour look; "But sir…" he protested.

"But nothing!" Dooku snapped, making Obi-Wan suddenly realise what an intimidating father the man might have made, in another time and place. "You've done your bit and now you must go back. There is nothing for you here now. Find your ship and get out of here."

Boba's bright face drooped in anxiety. "But where can I go?" he murmured.

Obi almost felt sorry for the boy, despite the fact the lad had nearly once killed him. But the Count was right - there was nothing left for young Fett here.

"You will find somewhere, Boba, you're bright beyond your years," Serenn went on, hauling the boy up by his arm and gently prodding him away in the opposite direction, "You were born to be just like your father - now go out there and make him proud."

Boba stared hard into Dooku's eyes, imploring for the elder man to let him help, but he soon realised that there would be no swaying him.

"This is my last order, Boba Fett," Serenn added for good measure. "Now go."

Boba glanced at Obi-Wan and glared at him, before he then took a few steps back and looked again to the Count. "I always respected you, Lord Tyranus," he said, "and I shall never forget you. Good luck, sir."

Serenn studied the boy's face and gave him a small smile, until Boba finally turned and ran.

Obi pursed his lips and shook his head as he and the Count watched the space where young Fett had been for a while.

'/_I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden'/_

"'Tyranus'…" he muttered. "I should have known."

Dooku paused for a moment before he turned and peered back down into the abyss into which he and Obi were to descend. "Yes, you should have," he said.

"That boy will be dangerous. You can't let him go like that - and _encourage _him, too!"

Serenn turned on Obi-Wan and glared deep into the Jedi's blue eyes. "And would you be so arrogant as to pronounce sentence on all living creatures, Master Kenobi? Do you deem yourself worthy enough to be able to judge everyone, on whether they should be allowed to live or to die?" He took his lightsabre from his belt and proffered it to Kenobi; "Here. Take my weapon and go and kill him. Think of the lives you might save, the people you might protect."

He watched Obi hesitate and cocked an eyebrow. "No…? Can you not kill a child, Obi-Wan? Can you not destroy a born-killer, before he has even killed? Can you not?" He laughed coldly and shook his head. "If you could go back in time and strangle me in my cradle, would you? If you could have made sure that Anakin's podracer crashed all those years ago, and thus have saved us all from so much grief, would you have?"

Obi pushed the lightsabre back toward Dooku and glared viciously at the man. "Stop it," he snarled.

Serenn hung the lightsabre back upon his belt, his face immediately shedding its wickedly grim smirk, and he then just regarded Obi-Wan with cool disdain. "Good and evil are never black and white, Master Kenobi, and many of our choices are, at the same time, both right and wrong. You told me yourself that the Force has no sides but that people do, and perhaps it _is_ the people who have the sides, but many of them have more than one side… and you cannot condemn a person when you have only seen one facet of their soul, now, can you?"

Obi-Wan, despite this fancy little speech, and the rather unnerving aura of the whole talk, deigned to look unimpressed. He shoved his way past the Count and said, "Shall we get a move on, then?"

Serenn stared into the middle distance for a moment before he just nodded to himself and did indeed turn and follow.

* * *

After a long and somewhat agonising climb down into the depths of the sandstone gulf, Obi and Serenn reached the bottom of the pit and swiftly went about finding a suitable exhaust vent through which to enter. Obi let the Count make the choice out of which of the vast multitude of outlets they were to enter through, and Dooku had soon made his selection, and then instantly began to cut through the thick, metal trellis that covered it with his weapon.

It turned out to be a far more difficult task than either of the Jedi predicted, to burn through that thick metal grille, and Obi soon took to sitting on a rock nearby as he waited for Serenn to complete the task. He wasn't being awkward when he failed to offer assistance, he just knew that some Jedi preferred to work alone. Master Qui-Gon was like Dooku in that respect, in that he had always liked to do many things of his own accord; in fact, Master Jinn might have still been alive today if he hadn't been so bold as to rush down that corridor of cycling, red doors alone and stubbornly refuse to wait for Obi-Wan to catch up so that he could have offered him the help he had needed. Qui-Gon had thus faced a foe that he could never have defeated, and shortly thereafter met his death…

Mulling over these recollections, Obi-Wan thus said, "Master Qui-Gon was always one for ventilation shafts."

This came out of the blue and caught Dooku off guard to such an extent that the Count could do little but give Kenobi a puzzled look in return. "Isn't it always so?" he eventually countered. "How else would one get into these places? The front door?"

Obi shrugged. "Master Yoda might try that. Word had it that Master Fisto preferred the sewers…"

"Well, he would…" Serenn scoffed as he cut through the final few metal bars of the durable trellis. It thus dropped down the passage and hit its imperceptible bottom with a loud and echoing thud.

"You see, Qui-Gon learnt from the master," the Count continued, placing his lightsabre back at his hip and looking down the black hole.

It was Obi's turn to scoff this time. "And who did _you _learn from?"

"The master."

"And he learned from…?"

"Another alleged master."

The two exchanged knowing glances before, one after the other, they just dropped straight down into the murky hole.

They fell for a short while, their vision completely fogged by darkness, until the floor came into sight and they prepared themselves to land; Dooku hit it in style, alighting perfectly on his feet, whilst Obi-Wan just missed the mark and stumbled onto his backside with a thud.

"Typical," Obi groused as he sat on the floor, feeling a little disgraced.

Dooku decided to ignore him, anyway, and just set his mind straight onto the task at hand. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom, he scrutinised the surrounding area and discerned that they were in a broad, long pipeline, one which was filled with steam and the smell of molten metal. On top of this, it was stiflingly hot, so gave them no release from the arid atmosphere of the desert from whence they had just come.

"Oh, well this is nice," Kenobi soon remarked.

Serenn gave him a dry glance but still didn't say anything.

"You know what?" Obi went on, giving his nose a quick scratch. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Serenn finally allowed himself a smirk. "Oh, you too?" he said.

* * *

A division of clone troopers walked down one of the many passageways of the underground Imperial foundry, making sure that all was well and that no unwanted guests had somehow sneaked in. As the division reached a junction in the dull, uninviting halls, the lead sentry drew them to a halt and singled out two soldiers at the rear of the group. "Wait here," he ordered the pair. "I want regular reports."

"Yes, sir," the two nodded whilst the rest of the group went on their way.

The two troopers stood completely to attention for some time, just holding their rifles in their arms and looking this way and that about the corridors, until one suddenly said, "I've heard they're promoting more troops to the Arc division."

"Really?" the second replied. "Are you going to apply?"

"No. I don't think I was made to be an Arc trooper."

It was then that there came a sudden noise from above, an echo in the large pipelines…

"What was that?" one said, his rifle suddenly held to attention and pointing at the roof above, where a ventilation shaft opened down into the passage.

The other shrugged. "It was nothing… You know what this place is like."

The other troop relaxed his guard, and eventually lowered his weapon. "Maybe you're right," he shrugged.

_/Tap, tap. Swish, swish./_

The two troopers' bodies abruptly flopped forwards, and their heads, severed from their necks, rolled a few feet away down the corridor until they hit the wall with a final clunk.

Dooku and Kenobi were now stood there behind the decapitated bodies, lightsabres in their hands, and they both stared down in silence at their grim handiwork. That was until Obi-Wan murmured, "I always wondered what clones talked about."

Serenn sighed and gave the bodies a slight kick, as if he were in doubt whether or not decapitation meant certain death to a clone. He then hung his weapon once again at his hip and looked about.

"We should have come through the roof," Kenobi went on, looking up to the ventilation shaft that passed conveniently overhead.

"Don't be absurd," Serenn rallied. "They would have expected that. We might get in through the ventilation shafts, but I prefer to move about in the shadows."

Obi made another shrug. "You're the boss, I guess."

"Am I?"

"Well, I can't be bothered to challenge you right now. It's exasperating."

Serenn smirked. "That is one of the biggest differences between you and I. I'm a natural-born leader, and you are a natural-born follower."

Obi felt his nose wrinkle - that sounded a bit like an insult - but he didn't pursue the matter. He just watched the Count flitter here and there, inspecting every corridor and pondering on which way to go next.

At length, Dooku just heaved a great sigh and stood still with his hands upon his hips. "Now which way?" he muttered.

Obi nodded down at the two headless bodies on the floor. "Perhaps we should have asked them for directions first." That earned him another dark look from Serenn.

The Count soon started to rummage through his robes and, finding the sought-for article at last, drew a small holo' projector from out of his pocket and gave one of its buttons a flick. A map of Geonosis - the same one from the communications room on Serenno - now appeared above the device, and Serenn zoomed in until he had a decent picture of the layout of the foundry.

"Where's the 'You are Here' arrow when you need one?" Obi-Wan jibed, warranting himself yet another weary look from the Count.

"I think we're here," Dooku conjectured after a moment, pointing at a certain passageway on the map.

"Mind you, we could be here," Kenobi countered, pointing at an identical one over the other side of the map. "Or here. Or even _here_."

"Master Kenobi, work with me."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's true, isn't it?"

The Count just stared at him. "What do you suggest we do, then?"

"Is this plain reconnaissance?"

"I haven't come half way across the galaxy for 'plain reconnaissance', Obi-Wan. This is called hit and run, with a sprinkling of vengeance."

"'Run'?"

"Yes, we're a little outnumbered."

"By clones?"

"Armed clones."

"Good point."

"I say we split up. There are two things we need to get out of this mission: the Death Star plans and destruction enough to throw the Imperial throng off-balance for some time."

"So who's doing what?"

The Count's brow arched. "Seeing as neither of us can agree on where we are, we'll both attempt to find the Death Star plans. One of us will find them, the other won't."

"What will they look like?"

"I don't know. They'll more than likely be inputted into the computer systems by now."

"So how do we retrieve them?"

"Perhaps it might be better if we just destroyed them."

Obi nodded. "But surely they would still keep a master copy, even if they have copies of the plans elsewhere."

"Yes…" the Count pondered. "But they shall be very careful about where these plans go. In enemy hands, they could be just as dangerous to them as they are now to us. The plans will not have moved outside of the foundry, I'm sure. Our objective, therefore, should be to find the master copy and to destroy the duplicates - hence the need for some destruction."

"Again, what will the plans look like?"

"If they're in the same format as when I last had them, then a small, circular device."

"Oh, well that narrows it down."

"It'll be in a safe place, Master Kenobi, and well guarded. How many circular objects get that privilege?"

"Very few, but that makes them thrice as hard to find."

Serenn sighed. "We haven't got much time. Would it be naïve of me to suggest 'using the Force'?"

Obi smirked a little. "No. In fact, I would find it quite refreshing to hear you say something like that."

Serenn smiled weakly in return and patted Obi-Wan heavily on the shoulder. "Then use the Force."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Right. Let's just do it."

"Good," the Count nodded. He flicked through his mini-factory map again and pointed to four rooms on it. "There are four main command centres in this foundry: here, here, here and here." - and he pointed to each in turn - "Those shall be our best starting places."

"If we can even find _them_."

Dooku ignored him. "Keep in touch via comm' link" he went on, patting his belt, "and may the Force be with you."

"You know, that sounds so much better when you say it…"

They were then both about to go, but were caught up in a strange, hypothetical net, and found themselves just stood stock-still, staring at each other, as though they felt it might be the last time.

"Take care of yourself, my boy," Dooku murmured.

Obi-Wan nodded; he still didn't particularly like the Count, but now that they were out here alone, as Jedi, and relying on one another, things felt almost right. "And you, my master," he said.

And they then finally turned and went.

* * *

At the foundry's hub, Darth Vader sat alone in meditation. The Force swelled and coiled about him - he could feel its very texture and its every shift and whim; it was his servant, and it flowed and worked to his command. His master, Lord Sidious, had taught him how to put the powers of the Force on a leash, and to tame them to do whatever he desired, and now, finally, they did. He was the most powerful Jedi ever.

Nay, he was _more _than the most powerful Jedi - he was more powerful than any Jedi, just as Sidious had once told him he would be. He was stronger than Yoda, and soon he would prove that he was mightier than his former mentor, Kenobi; once Obi-Wan was out of the picture, he would feel content.

He took in a deep breath, sat upon the floor with his legs crossed and his eyes closed in meditation; he couldn't get the image of Padmé out of his head. He could see her, weak and in pain, calling out a name… but it wasn't his. Something had happened to her, he knew it, and he would make Obi-Wan tell him the answers when they next met. He just prayed it was nothing that could not be fixed.

_/'Sometimes there are things that no one can fix'/_

And as if on cue, a sensation overtook him, interrupting his thoughts like a knife slicing through a canvas. He could feel something, a presence he had not felt since…

"He is here," he murmured.

"Who?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The other laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Do not mock me - he is here."

"You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The other in the room paused, hesitating slightly. "But how did he find us?"

"Does it matter? He is here now… and I must face him."

"Why haven't the patrols reported him?"

Vader chuckled. "Your patrols are nothing in the face of the Force."

The other glared at Darth. "Maybe. But do not let him escape."

Scoffing at this, Vader began to get to his feet and finally opened his eyes, turning his intense gaze upon Wilhuff Tarkin, who was regarding him with reservation. "I must face him. I won't be long," he said, before he swiftly strode out of the room and left the Governor alone.

Tarkin rose his fingers to his bony chin and rubbed it gently as he watched Darth go; needless to say he had a rather bad feeling about this.

* * *

The foundry was a labyrinth, there were no two ways about it. Obi-Wan could swear that he took the same corner twice, though it was against all reason as to how that was possible when he only seemed to be going forward.

He jogged along a passage, his Jedi boots clanking as he ran over the latticework, and his eyes scouring this way and that, looking out for trouble. Whenever he sensed troopers coming, he had to launch himself into the ceiling, or find a hollow in the wall in which to conceal himself, and hope that the Force would lend him a hand and keep him hidden. This plan of action seemed to be working so far, though he had found no sign of any command centres, and he just hoped that Serenn was having as much luck…

* * *

Serenn wasn't having as much luck. Everywhere he went there were clone troopers, and then some, and he just could not seem to evade them. At every corner he took, whereupon he found himself facing yet more clones, he could do little but curse with wild abandon and hurtle into them, lightsabre blazing. Hacking down every soldier that set eyes on him was his only option under the circumstances, for any survivors would simply get away and raise the alarm. He couldn't afford to let that happen.

After he got through his fourth wave of troopers, he took a breather and stared down in dismay at the carnage he had caused. He then turned his eyes up to face a doorway at the far end of the corridor and saw yet another faction of troops rush towards him. He exhaled ruggedly. "Always on the move," he panted, before he charged…

* * *

_/ 'Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.'/_

_/'Hi. You're a Jedi, too? Pleased to meet you!'/_

There was a tremor in the Force, a feeling that Vader could only associate with his former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the closer he got to the man, the more prominent it became. It was hard to explain to a non-Force user how these sensations, these vibrations through the Force, could communicate certain things to one - perhaps its best sensory comparison was with that of smell, where sometimes one can link a certain aroma to a certain object, or even to a certain memory; the essence of Obi-Wan was the equivalent of a pungent smell, one so powerful that it was unmistakable, and it sent a dagger through Vader's heart.

The Sith Lord marched down several passageways and then descended a couple of flights of stairs, before he walked out toward the hub of the active foundry. He would find Obi-Wan Kenobi at last and they would then have a long overdue chat.

* * *

Obi-Wan now walked stealthily through a wide corridor. He could hear all kinds of humming and throbbing noises emanating from the distant reaches of the factory, accompanied by the tinny percussion of metal hitting metal; it made the atmosphere feel tense, as though he were walking into the lair of a huge slumbering beast, one that, once roused, would do terrible things…

And in a way, he was.

Obi wasn't quite sure where he was - he had a feeling that that last right turn should have been a left - but he had no inclination of turning back now; or worse, of actually deigning to ask Dooku for directions… He just kept himself walking tight to the walls and made his way steadily along the dim, gloomy passageway until it opened out into a massive, great chamber.

He looked around this huge room in awe; here there was stored hundreds upon hundreds of giant metal panels, all a dull-grey in colour, whilst rows of gargantuan girders lined another side of the hall, like vast leaning towers of steel. Kenobi supposed that this must be some kind of storage hangar, all of these parts clearly being intended for the construction site of the beastly space station that he and Dooku were trying to prevent from ever coming into being.

Obi's thoughts were soon interrupted, however, for the Force suddenly began to whisper to him in a strange and eerie voice, drawing his attention to the far side of the room. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his body brimmed with a cold sweat as he then turned to see what was there.

Or rather who.

There was a grim figure stood across the other side of the hangar, a man cloaked completely in black, with his face overshadowed by a hood and his hands hung nonchalantly by his sides.

Obi's stomach clenched - it was Anakin. "Hello there," he said, gathering his resolve and facing the dark spectre head-on.

The figure reached up and drew back the hood to reveal the visage of the late Anakin Skywalker, a face ravaged by anger, darkness and greed. "I've been waiting for you," he replied, his voice, though not loud, still managing to carry across the enormous hall.

Obi-Wan didn't want to madden his old friend outright, so he restrained his tongue and just stared at him, studying the creature that the small slave boy from Tatooine had become; he was so much changed, and all for the dream of being a Jedi and for the love of a woman…

Vader meanwhile began to make his way across the chamber, closing the gap between himself and his old mentor.

"I'm not here to settle scores, Anakin," Obi-Wan said as the young man drew closer.

So much for not wanting to enrage him, Obi's mind remarked just a little too late - hearing that name alone, the very cadence of 'Anakin', sent Vader into a savage rage and, without a moment's hesitation, the Sith Lord simply brought his lightsabre to life and charged at his former master.

Obi's 'sabre hilt tumbled from his hip into his hand, before he then swung it up and parried Vader's first blow, his blue lightsabre meeting the young Sith's red one with a deafening crack…

And so it began.

* * *

Dooku wheeled about, struck down two clones at once, then backed into a doorway, taking a moment to again catch his breath. This slaughter wasn't something he was particularly proud of, and he felt his hands shake a little as the sheer scale of this destruction sank in; it seemed bizarre that, after the events of the war, this further killing spree proved too much for him, but he presumed it was a sign that the circuits in his brain were finally functioning properly again .

Taking another few gulps of air, the Count then turned and began to walk quietly down the side passage into which he had come. It was very dark in here, and rather narrow, but he followed it regardless of his apprehensions.

As he reached the end, he found himself faced with a metal-rung ladder, reaching up the wall and to the floor above. He glanced up toward its peak before he decided to take hold of the thick bars and shin himself up the steps. His head emerged on the next level after a matter of seconds and he peered around, finding himself in yet another dark and empty passageway. Making sure there was no one about, Dooku thus leapt up onto the surface and followed this corridor round to its end, where a doorway lay open and invited him into the chamber beyond.

Serenn took his lightsabre into hand and hesitated a little before he gathered his resolve and crossed the threshold, and there beheld, rather anticlimactically, nothing but a small control room that overlooked part of the foundry. That and a thin, tall man, who was stood with his back turned and staring out over the foundry, anyway.

The Count stood still and flicked his thumb over his lightsabre's activation switch, holding the red blade before him whilst he monitored the lone stranger with care.

The other man turned and gave the intruding Count a careful look. "Well, well, well… here's a familiar face," he smiled, a grim light glimmering in the backs of his pale eyes. "I recognise you."

Serenn glared at the man, but was unable to identify him in return.

"It's Count Dooku, isn't it? Or Count Dooku dressed as a Jedi Knight, in any case." The thin man put a gloved hand to his lips and gave Serenn another long look. "Word had it that you were dead, but why should we trust a man such as yourself to just die? It just doesn't happen, does it?"

And then it clicked. "Wilhuff Tarkin," Dooku murmured.

"Hmm… your memory's not what it was. But I suppose you have met many more interesting faces over the course of that life of yours. I'm sure mine has just floated to the bottom of the pile." He gave the man a rapid-fire smile, then clasped his hands at the small of his back. "And now you've returned with a vengeance, clad once again as a Jedi, and prepared to destroy the Emperor's ultimate weapon, yes? A weapon you, ironically, commissioned to begin with."

Serenn took a deep breath and held his tongue; this man was as apt with words as he had once been.

The Governor then just opened his arms to him. "Come along then, Count Dooku," he smirked. "Kill me."

Serenn could feel his anger coiling back like a bloodthirsty serpent, a serpent that ached to lunge at the man and suck the life from his very body, and he did indeed begin to raise his lightsabre back over his head, ready to strike, until--

"But perhaps you'd like to think of the consequences first?"

Serenn shuddered to a halt as Tarkin said this, and then saw in the distance, as the man stepped to the right, Obi-Wan locked in combat with Darth Vader across the other side of the foundry. His eyes widened as he watched as the two lightsabres, blue on red, flash and whir, the two men performing a fast and furious dance of death. He then glanced back at Tarkin, who was by now offering him a wickedly grim smirk; "I know where the Death Star plans are," he said. "Kill me, and I guarantee you'll never find them… at least not before Lord Vader kills you and your colleague over there first."

Dooku's eyes were glued to the vision of Obi-Wan and Vader fighting, and he swallowed hard.

"What will your choice be? My life or General Kenobi's? Is it possible that you won't kill me, Count? Is it possible that you may return to your roots and do things the diplomatic way?"

"I'm not a killer."

Tarkin laughed. "Oh, but you are. Many lives have been lost because of you. Perhaps you didn't always pull the trigger, but you were still responsible, and you know it. No one starts a war without thinking otherwise."

The Count looked to Obi-Wan again and felt his left hand sweat whilst he clutched the lightsabre hilt, making it slide beneath his remaining few flesh fingers.

"Having a bit of a repentant streak, are we, Dooku? Taking some time out? All killers do… it just makes you feel better…"

Serenn couldn't be bothered with the man. "I haven't come for a psychological examination - we could be here all day if I had."

Tarkin allowed himself a chuckle. "Yes, you're right, of course. So… shall I write out my will now, or when you come back…?"

Dooku tightened his gaze upon the man and rose the tip of his weapon beneath his bony chin; "Take your time, Governor," he murmured, before he turned and ran.

And Serenn thus tore as fast as he could back through the corridors of the foundry, his ponytail flying out behind him and his fists pounding the air as he drove himself forward, picking up pace all the time. He dropped straight down stairwells and took corners quickly, sometimes even running halfway up the walls so that he could take them fast enough, and stampeded on in the direction of Obi-Wan Kenobi, determined not to let the man perish. "Hold on, Obi-Wan," he murmured. "Hold on…"

* * *

The fight between Kenobi and Darth Vader had moved from the storage hangar and through into the wide expanse of a huge metal-casting chamber. A massive basin opened out beneath several levels of crisscrossing gangways, a basin into which tons of molten metal would be poured and fashioned into the panels of skin and bone that would make up the Emperor's Death Star. Heavy conduits opened into this basin from its sides, and a long row of gargantuan pitchers, hung overhead and suspended from the ceiling by a long rail, were prepared to bear further molten gifts into the yawning chamber below. It was a hellish place, the atmosphere close and smelling heavily of smouldering metal, and, though it was now grey and dull, one flick of the switch at the control terminal would bring this place to life and splash its gloomy furnishings with sordid orange and yellow glows.

Obi barely had time to register all this, though, for he was far too absorbed in the battle at hand. Vader thrust him through a doorway from the storage hangar and then sent him tumbling down a walkway, one of many that crossed over the deep basin below.

Obi-Wan fell awkwardly onto his elbow, crashing against the metal lattice, and cringed as he felt the sweat roll down his face. The atmosphere around him offered no release, just when he really could have done with it the most; Anakin had grown so much in power since they had last been together that he could hardly comprehend the change, and though he knew Anakin better than anyone else, and believed he could be an equal opponent because of that, he had forgotten that Anakin also knew _him_ far too well in return. The battle might have been an all-out stalemate if Anakin didn't now exceeded him so much in levels of power.

Vader watched with disdain as Obi scrambled back to his feet. "Can you tell I've been a good boy, master?" he sneered. "Can you tell I've been practising?"

Obi-Wan had given up talking for the time being. He knew he'd just dig himself a deeper hole if he opened his mouth, and he could do without that.

"But since you're here, you can help me," Darth went on.

Obi held his 'sabre out before him and took a step back.

"Someone took my Padmé away from me. And I think you know who it was."

Kenobi's lips remained sealed.

"She was stolen from right under my nose." Vader took a slow stride forward, and then another, beginning to raise his lightsabre toward his mentor. "I wonder who it was? Who would have known where to find her? Who would have had the nerve?"

Obi wasn't sure whether Anakin thought that he had been the one to rescue Padmé or not; it made no sense to him, but if Anakin thought that Dooku was dead, then perhaps there were few other suspects.

"It was a very bad mistake to make," Darth murmured, his voice darkening and his eyes almost seeming to flare with red and gold. "It was foolish."

Obi took his 'sabre hilt in both hands and prepared for the oncoming storm.

"Make things easy on yourself, master. Tell me where she is. I know something's happened to her and I need to find her. So tell me."

Kenobi just stared deep into the turbulent pits of ire that were Lord Vader's eyes and shook his head. "I can't," he said.

"That's the wrong answer," Vader snarled, before he brought his lightsabre down in one great, curving arc over Obi-Wan's head. The Jedi managed to parry the blow before he wheeled backwards and stood _en garde_ again.

"You can't hide her forever," Darth growled on, before he lunged again and thrust his weapon at Kenobi's body.

Obi propelled the incoming attack aside; "Listen to yourself!" he snapped, unable to keep his cool any longer. "You're obsessed!"

"Where is she!"

On and on came the red blade, to the left and the right, above and below, and Obi was forced only further and further back as he knocked, shoved and drove each incoming attack aside.

"Everything is perfect now," Darth ranted. "The galaxy's at peace. The greatest man alive rules it. And all that it needs to be complete is Padmé, so we can both stand at the Emperor's right hand!"

"She would never join you."

"I know my Padmé. She wants what's best for the galaxy."

"Yes, and that's not _you _or your blasted Empire."

Obi knew it was foolish to be so terse, but it was as if Anakin's anger was infecting him and drawing him down to his level. He could feel the darkness there around them both, clouding the air like a toxic gas and infusing itself into their bloodstreams.

The lightsabres clashed again and the two danced, their footwork rapid and flawless as they twisted and twirled back along the gangway, their bodies occasionally enveloped in thick swirls of steam which burst up from small exhaust pipelines beneath them. Wherever Vader attacked, Obi parried, wherever Darth kicked, Kenobi dodged, and with every failed assault, the young Sith became only more and more aggravated; Obi-Wan was not an aggressive fighter - he never had been - and this tended to irritate his opponents more than anything. Master Kenobi had to be severely pushed if he was to fight viciously.

"You're pathetic," Vader shouted at last, his teeth ground together in impatience. "Why don't you fight like a true warrior?"

Obi turned Darth's next cleaving shot, aimed at his waist, away before he then flipped backwards to give himself some space and a moment to breathe. "This _is_ how a true warrior fights," he retorted, before he angled his lightsabre down and invited Vader on again.

Darth took up the offer and spun into Obi-Wan, throwing his entire weight behind the assault. Kenobi grunted as he withstood this powerful attack and held Vader's blade there, though he felt his feet skid back a little along the latticework of the gangplank. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow as he held his ground, his muscles shaking behind such force, and, at last, he managed to accumulate enough strength to hurl Darth's blade off and to retreat another few paces.

"Coward!" the young Sith now cried, charging his former mentor once more.

Obi shook his head in the few seconds that lapsed before Vader's lightsabre fell on his again, lamenting the insane determination of the lad.

Darth now held his weapon in both hands, and the power behind his offensives had increased to an incredible level. His eyes were bright with rage and concentration as he swung his blade down, then across, then thrust it up into an uppercut, every time having to face the nuisance of Obi-Wan's flawless blocking.

The two combatants had by now reached the centre of the giant casting chamber, gangways crossing overhead and below them, whilst the long line of gargantuan canisters, dangling precariously from what looked like very small chains right up in the rafters, swung gently in a nonexistent breeze, all inert and empty and waiting for the right moment to come alive.

It wasn't long until, in this battle between old friends, a blunder finally occurred in Obi-Wan's defence, and, as he deflected another of Vader's cleaving shots, he felt Darth's boot then clip his heels, and he stumbled off-balance into the railings at his left.

He came back to himself just in time to stagger backwards again, out of range of Vader's consequent incoming thrust at his chest, but he had by then completely lost his stable poise and he accordingly fell into a tired heap upon the floor.

Obi-Wan sighed and took several deep breaths whilst, with a great leap, Vader landed before his nose. Obi looked up into his former Padawan's terrible face, a face moulded with avarice and hatred, and he swallowed as Vader now lowered his blade over his chest and pinned him there. He was trapped.

"I might feel bad about this, master," Darth muttered as he moved his lightsabre one way then another over his old mentor's body, "if you didn't so deserve it."

Obi convulsively swallowed - what use would words be now? The boy was deafened to him, choosing the voice of the dark side over his, and hearing nothing except that which he wanted to hear.

"Tell me where Padmé is," Vader went on, "and I might be lenient…"

Obi shook his head another time, doing his best to crawl back across the walkway without pushing himself up into that deadly blade. "She's somewhere you can never reach her, Anakin," he whispered. He then doubled up as Darth's boot suddenly flung, with tremendous force, into his abdomen; "My name is Vader!" the wayward warrior roared, kicking the Jedi Knight several more times over before he was satisfied.

Obi grimaced, clutching at his sore and weary body. He felt the bile rise to his mouth, but he swallowed it down again, and closed his eyes as several blasts of steam shot up through the metalwork and enveloped both he and the crazed young man in an eerie mist, giving one the impression that they were both gloomy spectres loitering in a wreck of a world.

The mist soon cleared enough for Kenobi to be able to look back up and see Vader's ravaged eyes and ireful countenance come into focus once again. He could carry on fighting, he knew that he could, but there was something about the presence of the young man before him, about the very fact that Anakin had decayed into this thing, that depressed Obi-Wan and tore out his will to persevere. It was terrifying to think that this had all been allowed to happen, and that it was, perhaps, all his fault as well...

Obi-Wan thus watched Darth raise his red lightsabre back over his head without any inclination of saving himself, and just thought about how devastating an end this was, and about how much he had failed everyone…

And then Vader swung--

But, suddenly, there was movement at the railings, and a shadow passed over Obi-Wan! Before Vader's blade could quite meet Kenobi's flesh, it was intercepted and held fast aloft by another lightsabre of a similarly crimson hue. Through the haze, Obi-Wan could only hear Darth cry out, "_You_!" in a combination of surprise and aversion before, wheeling back, the Sith Lord drew his new protagonist away down the walkway.

"Why won't you just die?" Vader growled on.

"Dying isn't a habit of mine," the other retorted, his voice fortified with a bitter resolve.

Momentarily forgotten, Obi peered into the murk to discern his saviour's form - and he soon recognised Serenn's body, tensed ready for the fight, his russet robes making him contrast greatly against the dark tunic of Lord Vader.

The past and present Sith apprentices glared at one another for some time, and Obi-Wan could sense more in their hatred than the mere opposition of their galactic allegiances; there was a profound tension between them, a battle over the love of a woman who had suffered as a result of both their actions, and who they had both wanted to claim as their own.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Vader roared, his eyes flaring with such a fire it was terrifying. "Oh, I see it now… Count Dooku, the man who wanted what was never his to take, crawling back to Coruscant to steal my Padmé again."

"Yours, was she?"

"You twisted her mind and you made her think things she should never have thought."

"My, my, you do credit my abilities. I'm not sure they extended so far."

"Why does she love you?"

It was petty, but Serenn smirked at Vader as soon as he said this. He liked that fact, the implausible knowledge that, despite everything, Padmé had loved him in the end - and it was even more glorious to hear it finally emerge from Darth Vader's lips.

Vader saw that Dooku was basking in this glory with something of a sordid glee, and he thus felt the anger rise. "Where is she?" he demanded, raising his lightsabre to point at the man. "What have you done with her now?"

Serenn's smile faded in an instant and a deep grief now flooded his eyes, a grief looking for an egress, for some leakage out of the tortured soul within which it was trapped. "I have done nothing," he snarled.

"Nothing?" Vader scoffed, throwing his head back and laughing acidly. "How can you say nothing?"

"I say what is true. She only suffered from what you had done."

There was a flicker in Vader's gaze then, and he was forced into silence whilst he faced his oldest rival, wondering how much Dooku knew and, more importantly, what he was talking about now.

"Oh the Force has done us both very underhand favours, hasn't it?" the Count went on as he began to swing his lightsabre around in his palms, arrogantly - and deliberately - showcasing his skills to Darth Vader. "What you saw of me, I later saw of you. What I did, you copied. But what was once, in a word, 'yours' ended up as _mine_…"

"LIAR!" Vader screamed, eyes flashing again, and he drew his lightsabre back, his knees bent as he prepared to charge.

Serenn chuckled bitterly. "And so here we both are, ready to receive out comeuppance, to face each other and to battle over that which neither of us can ever now have!"

Vader's eyes again flickered with dreadful uncertainty at this. "What do you mean?" he muttered.

Serenn ignored him. "So I ask you, Lord Darth Vader, who was the more foolish? The fool" - and here he tapped himself on the chest - "or the fool who followed him?" And his hand wafted at Darth.

The tension exploded.

A dark and forbidding smile plastered itself upon Serenn's face as Vader rushed at him full-on, screaming at the top of his lungs, and the Count quickly tossed his weapon back over his shoulder, held out his hand behind him, caught it again, then, without a second glance, swung up into Vader's attack.

The two red blades came together with a deafening crack, each man fighting with a ferocity beyond that of the lightsabre battles that had preceded them - this wasn't about politics or Jedi-Sith rivalries, this was personal.

The weapons came apart and Serenn began to draw Darth Vader back, deflecting his every attack with a speed and application that somehow managed to be frightening; it was as if, through his every parry, the Count was somewhat goading Vader on and teasing him with nothing but the dexterity of his hand.

"Tell me what you meant!" Vader demanded as he and the Count crossed swords time and again, neither penetrating the other's defences, and their eyes locked on one another's. "Why can neither of us have her? Where is she now?"

But the Count, for once, said nothing. His long legs simply continued to take easy and fluent strides rearwards down the walkway as he lured Vader along, his lightsabre moving in graceful arcs and waves, and sending Darth's powerful but erratic lunges aside at every turn.

"Talk to me!" Vader screamed, becoming irritated by the unproductively of their brawl and of Dooku's peculiar silence. He soon opted for a change of tact, whereupon he made a sudden, long thrust forward at the Count, and hoped to evade his defences.

Serenn saw the assault coming before Vader had even began, though, so was ready for it, and clouted the incoming blade away before he flung a foot up into Darth's chin and made his jaws snap together with a horrid crack.

Vader stumbled backward for a moment, a muffled curse rising from his lips as the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He then glared daggers at the Count, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood all across it. "Foul play," he growled.

Dooku made a cocky grimace. "Anything goes."

Darth allowed himself a grin, his face making a rather ghastly picture with his eyes so livid and his gums lined with blood. "Oh, where's your honour now, Count Dooku, you noble old Jedi?" he teased. "What happened to your respectable code of conduct?"

"It died."

Vader chortled again. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"You will be."

Serenn made the charge this time round and he spun around into a great cleaving shot, his blade coming in toward Vader's neck. Darth dropped to his knees to evade the attack in turn, then quickly spun back onto his feet, turning the situation to his advantage and thrusting Dooku's lightsabre aside, whereupon he butted the Count in the head, and sent the other man staggering away in a transitory daze.

"Mind your head," Darth sneered, preparing to finish him off - but he was too slow, and soon felt Serenn's foot clip his ankles, making him tumble onto the walkway with a thud.

"Watch your feet," Serenn rejoined, rubbing his head for a moment before he rose his lightsabre back again and prepared to skewer Vader's body.

Darth's gaze fixed itself on Dooku and he then demonstrated the true extent of his powers by sending a great surge of the Force into the Count like an invisible tidal wave, one which consequently propelled the man backwards and over the nearest railing, from which he fell several metres onto a walkway below.

Dooku yelled as he hit the next gangway, his elbow jarring beneath him and his vision spinning; Darth Vader was indeed formidable. He needed to be more careful.

He cringed against the pain as he dragged himself back onto his feet, and then heard the sound of Darth's boots hitting the platform not far behind him.

Dooku turned around slowly and his eyes met Vader's once more.

"Your powers are weak, old man," the Sith sneered.

Serenn breathed heavily for a moment and suddenly, as he stared into Darth's eyes, he _did_ feel like an old man. He saw the power, the youthful vigour and the endless strength surging beneath Vader's skin and burning in his eyes, and he could feel an essence about Darth, such a cloud of energy and hate, that it put him in the shade. Maybe once they had been equals, but now, grudgingly, he had to confess to himself that maybe he _was_ weak and maybe he _was_ old, and that, just maybe, he wouldn't win this fight.

But there was always a small chance that things would go his way.

And so, casting aside his doubt, Serenn took up his blade in both hands once more and waited for Lord Vader to charge him. Which Darth gladly did, storming down the gangway like a rampaging reek, before his blade thundered down on top of Serenn's and the red weapons clashed all over again.

Serenn was moving backwards once more as their weapons got going, but this time it wasn't out of choice - Vader's power was growing, and, with his every thrust and clout, Dooku could do little but retreat on the defensive. The more angry, the more confident, and the more determined Vader became, the more the dark side rushed to his aid, feeding off him like a hoard of ravenous leeches, and repaying him with gifts of vigour and intensity. The dark side wasn't there any more for Dooku, not like it had been, and nor did he want it to be; he didn't want to go down that path again.

Dooku swung here and there, angling his blade every which way as he struggled to protect himself from Darth's angry lightsabre, but the pressure soon began to get too much, and, as the sweat rolled down his forehead, and his metal arm, still too alien to his body to remain comfortable for long, began to throb where it met his skin, he began to falter. It wasn't long until Vader took advantage of Dooku's weakness and, trapping the Count's 'sabre aside, managed to throw his fist into the Count's face.

Serenn barked out a short yell before he clattered to the floor and stared up at Vader jadedly. Vader smirked back at the man and took this opportunity to now make things even more interesting - he rose his hand to a gangway that crossed overhead and slowly began to clench his fingers into a fist, so that, in turn, the metal above started to creak and groan, twisting beneath the powers of the Force, until, with a final crack, an entire section of the above walkway began to tumble down toward them. Or more precisely, toward Serenn.

Dooku swallowed as he saw this coming, and wasted no time in flipping onto his feet, summoning the Force and propelling himself away down platform, well clear of the falling causeway as it collapsed, crashing down into theirs; but, unfortunately, it also caused their gangway to cave in, as it fell straight through the surface and split the platform into two.

Vader scampered away from the fissure as the platform rocked and swayed, both its ends beginning to tilt inwards like two gigantic slides, and was at least quick enough to find a stable rod to hold onto - but Serenn was less fortunate, and was powerless to prevent himself from falling down the increasingly inclined surface of his side of the walkway. He soon lost his balance altogether and tumbled into the yawning chasm below…

Darth laughed as he clambered up onto a secure and horizontal part of the gangway. "Whoops!" he jeered as he watched Serenn fall down, down, down, until the man hit one of the pit's rounded, sloping edges and rolled into the very depths of the great basin.

Serenn's sight was swirling and his stomach somersaulting when he finally came to a halt down below, and his skin burnt as a result of the friction caused when he had rolled across the hard, metal-and-stone surfaces. He cursed his own ineptitude before anything else, but soon cast that aside in order to refocus on the task at hand. As he clambered shakily to his feet, however, he saw that he was going to need his wits about him for Vader was strutting off down the walkway, far above, and heading for the control terminals of the chamber.

"Oh no…" Serenn whispered to himself, following Vader's movements with his eyes.

"This chamber isn't scheduled for use until tonight," the Sith apprentice called so that the Count could still hear him. "But why don't we start a little early?" As he reached the control terminals of the huge casting unit, he pulled down a lever and, at once, a red light began to blink on the console, and the hidden cogs and gears of the chamber groaned to life all around them. The beast was rousing...

Serenn's eyes darted all over the place at this, and he glanced from one thing to the next - from the hanging canisters way above, to the multitude of gangways, to the open chutes that gaped into the massive basin, and then finally back to Lord Vader. He could see one way out of this basin, but it was single rung ladder quite a distance away, and one that also led straight up to Vader's platform.

"How about we burn away all those sins of yours, Count Dooku?" Vader continued in the meantime, drinking up his triumph with pride. "How about I purify you with fire and mould you into the walls of my master's battle station?"

Serenn swallowed and just stared hard at Darth for a moment, until, an idea hitting him, he simply rose his hand and gestured for the young man to come down to him. "So you are Sidious's great, new protégé, are you?" he sneered, his powerful voice reverberating around the gigantic chamber like that of a god's. "Darth Vader, the great coward."

Vader's countenance paled a little in the face of such an insult, and his fists clenched. "I'm no coward," he yelled back.

Dooku's brow cocked. "No? Then prove it. Finish me like a true warrior." The Count opened his hand toward his lightsabre, which had been waylaid after his fall, and drew it back into his grasp, before he angled it over his shoulder and readied himself for the last battle. "Let me die by your hand, if I must die at all."

Vader didn't need to think twice before he took a running leap over the nearest barrier and plummeted down into the abyss, landing gracefully not far from the Count. "Don't worry… there's plenty of time until this place floods," he said. "I'll enjoy watching your body getting soaked up in the mess. I'll enjoy seeing you burn."

Serenn only gave the young Sith a menacing smile and began to swing his lightsabre blade about in another purposely brash display of skill. "Twice the pride," he murmured, "Double the fall."

This short, baiting exhibition did its work, and it wasn't a second longer before Vader ran at Dooku head-on, his red blade coming down on Serenn's and fizzling against it, enthused with his heightened rage and power.

Back up on one of the gangways, seeming to have been quite forgotten, Obi-Wan was by now back on his feet and observing the turn of events with great interest. The battle so far had been intense, and he was curious to see how it turned out. He knew that only one of them would walk away from this fight alive, though, if any of them walked away at all…

"Why won't you come out with the truth?" Vader snarled as his blade clashed with the Count's, their gazes locked again. "Why won't you tell me where Padmé is? You know you'll never get out of here alive to see her..."

Serenn said nothing. He just continued to deflect Darth's attacks.

The two drew away from one another, then both, as one, swung their blades back in. They paced aside, turned, and came in again, weapons clashing and fizzling, before they drew back, then attacked once more.

"I should have known you were still alive… Even Lord Sidious couldn't do away with you." Vader parried Serenn's next attack, twirled about, then threw his blade at him again. "You're like a disease, an infection, one that just won't go, and that contaminates all it touches… including my Padmé."

Dooku visibly swallowed and his eyes darkened, but still he said nothing. His attacks were becoming noticeably more fierce, though, and, despite his increasing fatigue, he began to throw more and more power behind his every thrust, his every swing and his every parry.

"She was with child," Darth snapped. "She was pregnant. Did you know that?"

The Count glared at him but decided to say nothing.

Vader grinned, taking his silence as a sign of envy. "Yes… I did what you could not."

This immediately roused Dooku from out of his torpor and his eyes flared at Vader with that old hint of indestructible energy; "You sick boy, did you really think this was some sort of 'contest'? Some sort of game?"

"Wasn't it?" The grin on Vader's face was hideous. "My mistake… you seemed eager to play at the start. I believe it was even you who initiated it."

Dooku's lips trembled, but he knew that Vader was right in this instance; he _had_ begun this 'contest', but he knew that now no one was going to win, because the 'prize' was lost; she was gone forever, and it was all his fault. All that now remained was her legacy and her children, children he needed to protect…

_/'And now, your highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base.'/_

But that he couldn't protect forever.

And then it hit him, a terrible truth. He was endangering the children. He was the link that Vader needed to find, if not Padmé, then his offspring - so long as he lingered, he would be the key to what Vader wanted to know. Could he live on with this guilt in mind? Could he, Darth Vader's enemy, continue to exist when he was the very threat he had promised Padmé he would guard her children against?

"Did she give birth?" Darth continued to rant. "Where is he? Where's my boy? What have you done with him?"

Dooku's eyes met Vader's as he continued to think on matters. There were, of course, others who might possibly jeopardise the safety of Padmé's children - anyone who knew of their birth, for a start, but more so the Jedi Knight who was stood on that gangway far ahead, Obi-Wan Kenobi. But someone had to live to protect them… Someone had to be there to guide them down the right path. This was Obi-Wan's duty, and he now had to do his.

He thus swung wildly at Vader's legs, his focus gone but his fearless bravado now taking over, and he ploughed on without care or refinement into Darth Vader, for he knew that he had but one purpose left to serve; if Darth Vader was to live - and Serenn already knew that he would - then there could only be one fate for him; and if he had to take it, then he would make it worth his while.

Vader parried Serenn's suddenly reckless incoming assaults with his teeth ground together, and tried to comprehend where this sudden rush of audacity had come from. He could feel such might behind the Count's attacks that for a moment, it scared him. He flung his blade back at the man in a vain attempt to quell this desperate onslaught, but it just got knocked aside like an insignificant thing, and he was forced to parry another few rounds of shots and jabs.

It wasn't for another few minutes of maddened fighting that Vader finally managed to catch Serenn's blade against his and lock it in place, so that he was now stood within close range of the man. The two were so close, in fact, that they could feel each other's breaths on their respective faces. "The clock is ticking, Count," Darth growled. "Tell me where she is."

Dooku's eyes were filled with that intensity they were famous for, and Vader saw things in them that he didn't like; the long life of a battle-scarred warrior was therein contained, a battle-scarred warrior who was, right now, utterly fearless, and that was the worst kind of opponent to face - the one who had nothing to lose.

Serenn eventually broke their stare and spun away, clipping Vader's heels in the process and giving himself some time whilst Darth regained his balance. "You said you loved her," he muttered.

_/'I think it's time for some reclamation. These things can be 'rectified'…'/_

"You made her believe that. But you loved yourself first. You loved your power first. You forgot what love was, because the dark side does not know love, it knows only of possession, of greed, and of lust."

Vader's face screwed up a little. "You're a fine one to lecture me, Count Dooku," he rejoined. "You know that you took what was not yours."

"You speak as if we're talking about a thing, a possession. We're not."

"She was never yours to have."

Serenn lost his temper. "She was never _anyone's_ to have!" he bellowed. "She was no possession."

Darth flared up in return. "But you treated her like one!"

"Yes. And I was wrong."

Vader paused for a moment, allowing himself to calm a little before, smiling grimly, he hissed, "It doesn't change anything. I won't forgive you for what you did to her."

Serenn's gaze tightened on him. "That is not for _you_ to forgive," he muttered. "It did not concern you."

"Anything that concerns Padmé concerns me!" he thundered in return, thrusting his weapon at Serenn once again and sending a whole multitude of attacks at the man, each in rapid and savage succession of the other. His eyes practically glowed with rage as he pushed the Count further and further back, forcing him into retreat once again, across the uneven floor.

The combined wrath of the two duellists crackled and fizzed in the air like a blazing inferno, the ire between them as perceptible as the men themselves; each was out to blame the other for the loss of the woman they had loved, but only one of them could succeed, and only one of them would succeed. And the Chosen One's power, after all, was at its terrible peak.

It was then that Vader slung his blade down over Serenn's head with such force that, as the Count blocked it, the shockwaves it sent through his limbs were profound enough to make his knees buckle and his legs collapse. And so he dropped, cringing in anguish, onto the unforgiving metal of the basin floor…

"Age is finally catching up with you," Darth sneered, watching the former Jedi drag himself backwards and try to get back onto his feet again. He then laughed solidly as he kicked Dooku in the legs and watched him fall onto the floor again. "Get up!" he taunted.

Serenn glared at Anakin, and, with a great effort, he hauled himself back to his feet, his legs shaky and limp, and his arms feeling like heavy loads that he could no longer lift. His entire body was just screaming out in protest, asking him to give in, but he ignored it all. He still had his honour, and he would go down fighting. After some effort, he eventually managed to raise his lightsabre up to face Vader's for one last time.

Lord Vader watched this feeble show for another few seconds before he just broke out into another wave of terrible laughter. Then with a fast, energised swing, he thrust his weapon up and sent Serenn's lightsabre flying. The Count was thus powerless to stop the Sith apprentice from then swinging his blade back once again and cutting through his right arm with all manner of hatred.

Serenn cried out, shortly and sharply, before he fell to his knees and heard his metallic appendage tumble away.

Vader looked down at the burning stump of Dooku's arm and allowed himself a smile; now he had done to the Count exactly what Lord Sidious had - and soon he would do more. Snickering under his breath, he looked deep into Dooku's eyes whilst the other man hovered there before him on unsteady knees, but as the young Sith delved into those dark orbs, he felt himself overcome with another unexpected sensation of fear and faintness, and soon he understood why; there, within this man's mind, were contained traces of Padmé.

Darth's smug smile faded and he blinked; finally, he was onto something.

He thus delved as deeply as he could into Dooku's mire of memories, at a time when the man was vulnerable and unable to conceal them, and he caught flickers of Padmé's smiles, of her in strange places and strange rooms, of her face sometimes bright, sometimes filled with tears, and sometimes even covered in beads of sweat, and then… yes, sometimes even in pain. His brow flickered - he tried to see further, but he was getting into territory far too personal for the Count to, even now, open it up to him; he did catch the edge of a child's cry in one brief memoir, though. A baby had been born.

"So she did give birth?" he murmured, his eyes coming back to him. He looked at Serenn with an expression of hurt and betrayal, and even jealousy. "You were there, weren't you? Trying to imagine my boy was yours?" He smiled maliciously at the Count. "Poor, old man."

Vader's lightsabre came up beneath Dooku's chin. "Now tell me where you've hidden my boy and my Padmé."

The Count clearly wasn't swayed by the threat on his life, for he made not a move - he just continued to stare at Vader, but in a way that made Darth feel insulted. Serenn was looking at him like he was filth.

"Children are wonderful things," the Count remarked at last. "Remarkable, I might say. But there are those amongst us who are unfit to be parents. And you are one of those people, Anakin Skywalker, so do not think that I shall ever reveal the location of your child to you."

Vader was enraged. "You--"

"Oh, you talk about your Padmé and your love, and of some kind of idealistic life that you would share if she was still here, but you cannot fool me," he went on savagely, "You tried to control and possess her because you knew she was falling away from you, because you knew she was something so much stronger and intelligent than yourself."

"Shut up!"

"She was afraid of you. Absolutely terrified."

"And she didn't fear you?"

The Count paused for a moment before he shook his head. "No… not at the end." He put his remaining hand to the floor and forced himself, for another time, onto his lame feet, holding his head high and looking down on Darth Vader with a hint of his old hauteur. "I've changed Anakin," he said, "and you have, too. But it was me that she held in favour at the last."

"LIAR!" Vader bellowed, preparing to strike.

"It's true!" Serenn roared in return, staggering backward as Darth stepped closer. "And do you know why it's true,_ Skywalker_? Because I became exactly what you had been. And guess what you have become…"

Darth knitted his teeth together and a lonely tear of confusion and anger rolled down his cheek. "No…" he stammered. "It's not true."

"Yes," Serenn nodded. "And you know it. We're more alike than either you or I want to admit." - and here he rose the unsightly stump of his right arm into view- "Aren't we?"

Vader couldn't help but glance at his metal arm, then look at Dooku's smouldering stump, and reluctantly concede the argument.

"You're not your own person anymore, boy," Dooku continued. "You belong to the Sith Master. He controls you now."

But Vader refused to believe it, and shook his head in denial. "No, you're wrong. We're a team. He understands me, and he lets me achieve my full potential!"

Serenn scoffed. "He only uses you, you fool! He uses us all!"

"I'm different from you!"

"Are you?"

Darth allowed himself a moment to breath again. "Where is she?" he asked another time, his eyes glassy with rage and dread. "What have you done with her?"

"You can never reach her, boy, and you know it."

"No, it's not true."

"You keep saying that."

"Where's my son? What have you done with him?"

Still nothing.

"Tell me where Padmé is!"

Serenn glared at the crazed young Sith before he finally said, "You can never have her back, Anakin Skywalker. Not any more. Now let her rest in peace… she suffered enough in her lifetime."

Realisation dawned on Vader and the colour drained from his flustered face. "No… I'll never forgive you for this!" he growled. "You turned her against me… you took her away from me… you laid your hands on her, you made her yours… and now you tell me she's gone? Have you ousted my blood from my son's veins, too? Have you done that as well, old man?" He shook his head, the dark side feeding off of his anger and despair. "This is your fault!" he roared. "It's all your fault!"

Dooku shook his head, his lips tight. "It's not _all _my fault, Anakin," he growled. "It's yours as well."

And Vader again charged.

Dooku held out his remaining hand and drew his lightsabre back to it, just in time to parry - however feebly - Darth's clumsy incoming strikes. The Sith apprentice pressed his advantage, ploughing blow after blow onto Dooku's lightsabre as the man, weak and off-balance, did all that he could to repel the other's advances, fighting with his left hand alone.

"She was mine!" Vader bellowed.

_/CLASH/_

"My Angel!"

_/CLASH/_

"You shouldn't have taken her away from me!"

_/CLASH/_

"She loved me!"

_/CLASH/_

"She was afraid of you!"

_/CLASH/_

"I _know _she was!"

_/CLASH, CLASH, CLASH/_

"It's all your FAULT!"

And, with one great, final blow, the Count's knees buckled another time beneath him, and he fell to the floor whilst Vader stood over him. It was too much for him now; he knew that his body couldn't physically take any more. He could feel his weak muscles spasm and twist, trembling in fatigue and even a little in fear, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears whilst his maimed arm throbbed in agony. Sweat rolled down his high forehead and stung his eyes, and he felt nothing but the inconsolable need to just bow down to Vader's superior power.

_/'Sometimes there are things that no one can fix'/_

It was over…

_/'Thank you, Serenn.'/_

The time had come.

He reached out for one final time, and now heard Vader chuckle, then laugh, as he took a hold of his lightsabre with his flailing fingers and clambered to his feet.

"Oh, this is rich," Darth tittered, finding a perverse hilarity in the situation. "You just _won't_ die, will you?"

The Count rose his eyes and met Vader's gaze, and saw there again all the rage, bloodlust, and total power of an irretrievable Sith apprentice, of a soul lost to the manacles of the dark side. Perhaps he couldn't save Anakin - he had no inclination of doing so, anyway - but he could save Padmé's children, and perhaps even himself. And so, throwing Darth completely off guard, he just grinned - he knew that this wasthe end, and that there was nothing he could do about it, and sometimes it paid to take advantage of that. Holding his lightsabre hilt before him, he then just tossed the weapon away before he opened his arms - the left full and the right stunted - to the reckless Sith apprentice, and said in a loud, energised tone, one that verged upon being frenzied, "Come then, Darth Vader! Take your revenge, and be done with it."

Vader didn't know what to do at first. He just looked the wearied warrior up and down and felt a flush of blood run to his face as if the man were making fun of him; the Count was just staring at him so intensely with those maniacal eyes, and was giving him such a wide, wicked grin, that he felt like he were being insulted.

Vader's lips therefore trembled in rage before, with a deep and absolute cry, he charged at the Count, his feet pounding heavily against the thick, metal floor of the great casting unit as he torpedoed faster and faster in Dooku's direction.

Obi-Wan was still watching from above and observing this staggering series of events with horror. "What are you doing?" he muttered, grasping the nearest railing ever the more tightly. "What are you _doing_?"

Holding his glowing, red blade in one hand, his blue eyes intense, Darth Vader got into as close a range as was necessary before he made a quick spin on his light feet, rotating until his back faced the Count, then took a breath and plunged his lightsabre backwards into Dooku's torso.

Obi-Wan shuddered. "No…" he sighed as the past and the present came to loggerheads once more…

_The Sith Lord moved fast. Pummelling thrust after thrust against Qui-Gon's lightsabre, he forced the great Jedi into retreat until he saw an opportunity for victory, and grabbed it. Driving his lightsabre into Jinn's chin, he dazed the Jedi for a moment that was to prove fatal, and before Qui-Gon could even collect himself, the lofty warrior was subject to a sharp pain in his midsection, and he gasped. He had been run through; the full length of one of the Sith's blade's was now firmly implanted in his body, and peering out from his back._

Serenn exhaled as this final pain tore through his body, feeling that terrible weapon, burning and searing, breaking through his flesh and blood, and sentencing him to a slow but certain death. Then, as Vader finally drew his weapon from out the man's body, the Count's legs, exhausted to their fullest, collapsed beneath him, and he fell to his knees and crumpled into a heap upon the floor.

_Obi-Wan watched as he stood powerless behind the wall of one of the cycling, red laser doors. He shook his head in denial, sure that this couldn't happen, that this would never happen… but it had. And as he watched the demonic Sith Lord pull his lightsabre disinterestedly from his mentor's body, he screamed full and vigorously; "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" He could feel his heart pelting against his ribcage, getting heavier and heavier as a feeling of ultimate loss and pain filled it with a leaden weight. He shook his head time and again, and watched as he saw Master Jinn's face freeze up in shock and his body stiffen, before, with a defeated final gasp, the man collapsed into a pile upon the floor, his lightsabre clattering against the metal tiles and rolling a short distance away._

It was over… at last.

Obi-Wan soon realised that his knuckles were white where he was gripping the railings and he was shaking his head. It was strange to watch someone, especially of the Count's disposition, just open their arms and invite death in. How much courage or stupidity did it take to sacrifice oneself like that? Why? What was the point?

It was then, as Obi continued to watch Serenn's motionless body, that he felt Vader's eyes on him. He thus slowly turned his gaze upon his former Padawan and stared at him hard.

"Come, Master Kenobi!" the wild apprentice called as their eyes met, his mind clearly filled with a rush of excitement following this tremendous kill. "Let us embrace at last!"

Obi-Wan's aching limbs and disheartened state of mind seemed to fade from his consciousness as he openly accepted the challenge. He vaulted straight over the barrier into the deep pit below, skidding down the inclined edges until he reached the lower basin, and then whipped out his weapon before him. The defensive stratagem was gone - Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to fight for his master, for the Count, for Padmé, and for himself.

Vader swung his lightsabre about. "One down, one to go," he smirked.

"I don't want any quarrels with you, old friend."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think, Obi-Wan?"

Kenobi made a pained expression. "Please…" he sighed, "just stop this madness."

"The Republic was the madness," Darth snarled in return, "The Empire is sanity. Why can't you see that?"

"I can see that that Sith Lord has poisoned your mind!"

"'That Sith Lord' has saved me from your pointless drudgery," he rejoined before he allowed himself a small smile, one filled with pride. "A new and civilised age has now dawned."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disbelief. It truly was no use. "Then you have made yourself my enemy, Anakin."

Vader's grin faded to a terrible, dark glare. "We've always been enemies, my master. Now let's finish this struggle."

They both bent their knees, their eyes focused on one another, until, with two great springing leaps, they flew at each other and clashed.

The lightsabres flashed, red on blue, groaning and snarling as they ground against one another. Obi drew back then slung his blade up into another attack, which Vader blocked, then Darth tried his luck with a cleaving shot to Kenobi's waist, which was again turned aside. The two hurled their weight at one another, and their blades moved rapidly, sending zany flickers of crimson and azure light all over the casting chamber.

"You should have seen them, master," Vader boasted. "All the Jedi that I have killed. So many are dead by my sword."

Obi-Wan let the boy anger him - he didn't care any more.

"They were just no challenge. I was embarrassed to ever think that I had been a part of their degenerate order."

"You have no idea of what you've turned your back on, Anakin."

Vader's blade came whooshing down so fast that Obi struggled to block it, and the red blade was within an inch of his skin as he did so.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me!" Vader seethed.

Obi allowed himself a crooked smile. "Then why does it infuriate you so much?"

Darth roared and flung his foot up into Kenobi's stomach, sending the Jedi stumbling back.

Quickly gathering his senses, Obi leapt back onto his feet and danced into another attack.

The blades crossed, first angled down, then overhead, then thundered together at waist height, the eyes of the two competitors on one another all the time. "This shall be the end of you, my master," Vader threatened.

"Then finish it," Obi goaded him, twirling out of the lock of their weapons and inviting the boy in. "Prove yourself!"

Obi-Wan watched as he saw Vader's muscles tensing, the young man clearly preparing to make a great lunge, but then, out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan caught sight of something else… A quick glance revealed to him that Count Dooku, still hanging onto that thread of life, was raising his hand up toward the ceiling overhead with his fingers splayed outwards, as if to grasp something.

Kenobi's brow twitched a fraction, but he simply turned his attention back to the scene at hand. And then he worked out what was going to happen.

Obi took a step back and yelled out something - he didn't know what it was, or to whom it was addressed, he just knew that he screamed - and at that exact moment, Darth Vader flew at him, soaring across the floor with a terrific great leap, whilst, at the same time, Serenn clenched his fist and snapped the chains of one of the gigantic pitchers overhead. Obi moved back and back again as Vader flew closer and closer, and as, all the time, the canister plummeted toward them all, tumbling down rapidly, until, with a timing that only a man of the Count's ability could have executed, the pitcher caught Vader in mid-flight and knocked him to the ground, saving Obi-Wan from the assault and leaving Darth brutally injured as the canister landed on top of his legs with a firm and sickening crunch.

A terrible period of silence then ensued and Obi-Wan, despite his life having been saved, couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. There was Lord Vader, laid before him and clawing at the floor with his hands in a desperate attempt to haul himself from out beneath the huge stone pitcher that now rested upon his legs. His face was pale and beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead - he was clearly in agony.

Obi then turned his eyes from Vader to Count Dooku. Serenn was also pale, his life clearly fading, and yet, despite his weariness, Obi-Wan could tell that the Count felt that he had done the right thing. He was confident in his judgments until the last…

Obi felt a tear roll down his face and he momentarily covered his visage with his hands as he tried to collect himself and come to terms with what was happening.

"You bastard!" Vader screamed at Serenn. "Haven't you caused me enough grief?"

Dooku stared at the boy with exasperation. "You chose this path, Anakin Skywalker," he muttered. "Now walk it."

Vader bared his teeth at the man and looked set to launch a second volley of insults at him until he heard the whirring of the consoles and the groaning of the ducts up above, and realised what was happening - the molten chambers that he had activated were about to start their task. "No…" he gasped, shaking his head and trying desperately again to free himself from under the cylinder. "You bastard, you'll kill me - you'll kill us all!"

Serenn still only grinned. "Won't that be a pretty end?"

"No! Let me go! Get me out of here! I don't want to die!" Darth ranted and raved, before he remembered, as if he could even have forgotten, that Obi-Wan was still here. He looked to the man and continued to grope at the surface in a vain attempt to pull himself closer to his former master. "Obi-Wan! Help me, please! Qui-Gon made you promise, remember? Remember when we met? On that ship over Tatooine? Remember?"

Obi-Wan peered from beneath his hand at the desperate young man and eyed him carefully.

"Obi-Wan, please!" Darth cried, tears of both fear and horror welling in his eyes. "You promised you'd train me! You promised you'd be my master! You've got to help me!"

Obi stared long and hard into the man's eyes and almost felt an essence of nostalgia wash over him.

_/'What will happen to me now?'/_

But he then looked to Dooku and, as that fading soul shook his head at him, he realised that the boy he trained wasn't alive any more, and that he could never get him back. There was only one thing for it… and he just hadn't the guts to go through with it. "I can't do this," Kenobi murmured to the Count as a tear rolled down his cheek and into his beard. "He's like my brother…"

Serenn could offer him no consolation, though. "Let him go, my boy…" he said plainly. "Just let him go."

Obi vigorously shook his head whilst tears continued to flow from his eyes. "I can't…" he said.

"You can do no more," Dooku quietly continued . "I know it hurts, but sometimes we have to walk away. We can't always be the hero. Don't do this for me, not even for yourself… do it for _him_, my son."

"No! Don't listen to him!" Vader loudly interceded, flailing more and more desperately at the floor and crying out in pain as his crushed legs refused to budge from beneath the heavy vessel. "Think what you're doing! Think what Qui-Gon would want! Think!"

Obi swallowed, still staring at Dooku, and Dooku still stared back, and they seemed to reach some kind of understanding as a result of this unvoiced exchange, something with Vader observed with horror, for he sensed that the outcome wasn't going to be in his favour. "I'm the Chosen One, damn you!" he roared in one final fleeting attempt to change the tide.

But Obi-Wan had made up his mind. With a final air of resolve, the Jedi summoned Count Dooku's lightsabre to his hand and hooked it on his belt, next to his own, before he then walked toward Serenn and took the lofty man up in his arms. He then began to walk away.

Darth's eyes widened in utter astonishment. "NO!" he yelled. "Master, think! Think what you're doing! Please! Don't choose him over me - you CAN'T choose him over me!"

Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling his throat burn with anguish as the pain of this decision, of this moment, tore his heart in two, and he openly cried as he walked away; he did not look back, though.

"THINK!" Vader continued to yell, his voice broken by tears and by rage. "Think what you're doing! For the Force's sake, THINK!"

But Obi-Wan only continued to walk away, balancing Serenn over his shoulder as he then took the single, emergency rung ladder out of the pit. And as he and the dying Count reached the safety of the platforms above, the last words Obi heard his former Padawan say to him were, "I hate you!" just as the casting unit unleashed its molten metal and it gushed down mercilessly into the pit below…

And so Darth Vader, alone and abandoned, screamed and cried whilst the burning liquid rolled from the ducts and smothered him. And Obi-Wan just walked away.

* * *

As the shuttle hurtled back into space, Obi made the jump to lightspeed as soon as possible before he walked numbly into the back room of the craft and fell to his knees by the side of the cot upon which Serenn was laid. The man was holding on for a far longer time then Qui-Gon had, but it was somewhat characteristic for him to do so.

Obi looked at that terrible wound through the Count's torso, seeing flashes of Master Qui-Gon in the same situation in his mind, before he then looked into Serenn's fading eyes and dropped his head onto the man's shoulder, leaning onto him as if he were all that he had left. "I failed him," he cried, "I failed Master Qui-Gon. It was all he asked me to do, all he had wanted me to do, and I failed him…"

Dooku's remaining hand came up to rest weakly upon the back of Kenobi's head; "You have not failed him, Obi-Wan," the Count murmured. "He knows that you haven't. He knows that he was wrong."

Obi gradually drew his head away, his breaths coming thick and fast from his chest, and he looked into Serenn's eyes one last time, unable to prevent his brow from contracting slightly.

"And if he doesn't know," Serenn added with a faint smile, "then I shall tell him when I get there."

He had just enough strength to then give Obi-Wan's face a brief, gentle stroke before, and at long last, his final breath passed from his lips, and his body fell still.

Kenobi stared at the lifeless Count for some time, lightly running his own fingers over where Serenn had just touched him, before he then swallowed and returned to the cockpit.

**TBC…**


	55. A New Hope

**Part 55 - A New Hope**

Vader's screams resounded around the walls of the foundry unlike anything Wilhuff Tarkin had ever heard before. "Help him!" the Governor roared as he sent wave after wave of clone troopers down toward the molten pit. "For the Force's sake, get him out of there…"

Things had dropped a little behind schedule on project Death Star, but it was of little consequence. The two Jedi who had infiltrated the foundry hadn't done as much damage as they might - the only thing they had done great damage to, it would seem, was Lord Vader.

Clone troopers swarmed round Tarkin, some acting to drain the molten pit and to reset the chambers, whilst others took on extra layers of protective armour and prepared to leap into the scorching, liquefied metal below to rescue the trapped Sith apprentice.

The thick, viscous liquid squelched horribly as some of the troopers, at last, began leaping into the pool, diving beneath the surface in order to seek out the young man.

Tarkin felt his nose wrinkle as he waited with baited breath for the men to re-emerge, hoping beyond hope that Lord Vader was still alive. "Come on," he muttered to himself, over and over.

After an agonising pause, the clone troopers finally broke through the glutinous surface, the thick liquid seeming to vomit them up in slow succession of each other, and between them they carried the charred and malformed body of the once handsome Darth Vader. Wilhuff put his hands to his mouth and swallowed heavily as even he, a man of stout constitution, felt the bile rise in his throat; Vader's legs had been crushed beyond repair, and his skin was nothing but a terrible, burning wasteland…

"Take him to the med' centre," the Governor whispered at length, unable to tear his eyes away, as much as he wanted to, from the deathly apparition that Vader had become. "I shall make contact with the Emperor."

The troopers saluted and went on their way, whilst the Governor had to sit down for a moment and collect himself.

* * *

Obi-Wan met Yoda in the hangar of Dooku's mansion on Serenno and just went down on his knees before him. The diminutive Jedi placed his small hand against Kenobi's arm and uttered a few words of comfort, whilst Bail stood in the far doorway and knocked his knuckle despondently against its edge.

"I failed, Master Yoda," Kenobi murmured. "What have I done…?"

Master Yoda rubbed the man's arm up and down. "No, not failed, have you… Only done what had to be done."

"We didn't even find the Death Star plans…" he sighed, wiping his sleeve across his face and trying to dry his eyes. "We should have known Anakin would have been there…"

"Hmm…" Yoda grunted sadly. "Foreseen this, I should have… Failed you as well, did I."

Obi then looked up as he heard Bail pace slowly over to him; the senator had a look of pity on his face, and of grim realisation. He took in, with a swift glance, Kenobi's singed robes and tear-streaked face, and finally asked, "And Count Dooku…? Where is he?"

Obi-Wan stared at Organa for a moment before he said, after swallowing, "He's in the shuttle…" He paused for another moment then added, "He's dead."

Yoda's eyes dropped to the floor and he nodded as if it had been inevitable. Bail didn't quite know how to react, so, after a few seconds of looking down, just turned and walked away.

Yoda met Obi-Wan's eyes again after another moment. "Know what must be done, we do," he said. "Disperse must this rebellion. Not yet time for us, it is. Into exile now must we both go, Master Kenobi. Hide ourselves, we must."

Obi-Wan nodded again bleakly.

"To Tatooine take young Luke, to his family. And there, keep watch."

"I shall, master," Obi whispered.

"To Dagobah I will go. In peace there I shall be, until come the time does." He patted Kenobi's shoulder. "When right, the time is, the boy to me send."

Obi again nodded. "I shall."

"To Alderaan, young Leia shall go," Yoda continued. "Safe and well loved there, she shall be." The small Jedi Master then turned and slowly began to hobble away. "Bid farewell to Master Dooku tonight, Obi-Wan. Then tomorrow take your leave."

Obi rose shakily to his feet and nodded one final time. "Yes, my master," he muttered. He then watched Yoda walk away for a moment before a thought occurred to him, and he patted his robes all over; he thus found Dooku's lightsabre and rushed after him. "Master!" he said. "Do you want this?"

Yoda drew himself to a halt and looked at the weapon as Obi-Wan held it out to him. He pursed his lips and made one of his thoughtful grunts. "No, Master Kenobi. A better home there is for that." Yoda turned again and began to walk away. "Think on it."

* * *

Bail Organa was with Mrs. Tarso in the nursery, preparing little Leia for her long journey home. He held the child in his arms and marvelled at her pretty, little face and her glorious dark eyes. "Oh you are a beautiful thing," he said, rocking her here and there. "My wife will make you a fine mother, and I promise to be a good father."

Mrs. Tarso smiled at them both, though she was sad to see the children go. She had become remarkably attached to them in the short space of time they had been here.

The door then suddenly opened and Obi-Wan stepped over the threshold, offering Edna a slight nod and Organa a low bow, before he stood upright in silence.

"Master Kenobi," Bail nodded to the man. "I… Well, I am at quite a loss for words. Things certainly aren't looking good right about now." He stroked the baby girl's head then sighed thoughtfully. "Is Anakin Skywalker dead?"

Obi swallowed, looking down at his feet for some time. "I'm… not sure," he eventually muttered. "I just walked away. I… walked away."

Bail didn't make any response; for some reason, he felt it best that he didn't know. He just paused for a moment and asked, as he stared down lovingly at his new daughter, "You have come to say goodbye, then, old friend?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes…" he said, before he stepped across the room to the man and held out Count Dooku's lightsabre. "And I wanted you to take this."

Bail eyed the weapon darkly, before he looked back to Obi-Wan. "Why should I?" he enquired; he didn't seem to have any inclination of taking the weapon.

"For Leia… just in case."

Bail didn't ask in case of what, and still looked incredibly dubious, but, after heaving a deep sigh, he did at last open one of his hands toward Obi-Wan and let the Jedi place the curved lightsabre hilt into it.

"Thank you," Kenobi said.

Bail offered him a short, small smile before he quickly hid the weapon within the folds of his robes, and went back to looking upon Leia's face. "Yes, well I hope she never has to use it…"

"I hope so, too," Obi imparted.

Bail gave the man a final, cordial smile and patted him on the shoulder. "Until we meet again, Master Kenobi," he whispered, before he then nodded to Mrs. Tarso, bidding her to follow, and departed from the room, leaving Obi-Wan alone with young Luke.

Kenobi walked over toward the slumbering boy and reached down into his cradle, running a finger over his small forehead. "May the Force be with us all," he whispered.

* * *

_/'Are you an Angel?'/_

_/'What?'/_

_/'An Angel. I heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe! They live on the Moons of Iego, I think…'/_

_/'You're a funny little boy. How do you know so much?'/_

_/'I listen to all the traders and pilots that come through here. I'm a pilot, you know, and some day, I'm gonna fly away from this place.'/_

_/'You're a pilot?'/_

_/'Mhm-hm - all my life'/_

_/'How long have you been here?'/_

_/'Since I was very little. Three, I think. My mom and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us betting on the Pod Races…'/_

_/'You're a slave?'/_

_/'I'm a person and my name is Anakin!'/_

He could feel a great pain in legs, a throbbing all over his body, but the ache in his heart was worse…

_/'I'm glad to have met you, Anakin'/_

_/'I was glad to meet you, too!'/_

Force, it hurt so much…

_/'I made this for you, so you'd remember me.'/_

"Padmé…?"

_/'I don't need this to remember you by. Many things will change when we reach the capital, Ani, but my caring for you will remain.'/_

"Padmé!"

Darth Vader opened his eyes, the smell of well-oiled machinery, burnt flesh and scorched skin wafting up around him and bringing the bile to his throat.

"Where are you Padmé?" he gasped. His throat burned, and his voice came out in terrible, throaty gasps, sounding unearthly, nothing like it should. His eyes wouldn't focus and his legs… oh, his legs felt as though they weren't even there; they felt just like his arm had done, after he had had that metal one attached, all that time ago… They felt just plain wrong.

_/'You'd better have not laid a finger on her. You'd better not have harmed her!'/_

His eyes widened; Dooku… he had fought Dooku again, hadn't he? But the Count was dead, wasn't he? He'd run him through, he'd destroyed him. Yes, that had felt good; it had brought a rush of excitement and power to his body. Finally, he had won their incessant struggle, their fight over his Angel. But then, where was Padmé…? What had that man done with her? And where was his son? What had the Count done with his son…?

"Padmé… My son..."

"Lord Vader, calm yourself…"

Vader inhaled slowly, trying to comprehend his situation; that voice… it was his master's, but how had he gotten here? Where _was _here, even?

Vader looked to one side, then to the other, realising that he was lying out flat, upon a horizontal surface. His hands were manacled and his body constricted. He felt claustrophobic, as though he were trapped within a net from which he could never escape. "Master," he sighed. "Where am I?"

"Relax, Lord Vader," was all the man said. "You are safe."

Darth was beginning to feel frustrated. His master hadn't come into view, and he could hardly turn his head at all in order to catch a glimpse of him. His sight was clearing a little, but everything came to him through a horrid, red haze, as if a curtain of blood had fallen before his eyes. "Where is Padmé? Have you found her? She's not really…?" His throat was stinging so badly that he had to stop there and heave a great cough, one which echoed out around him and seemed to rock the foundations of the chamber.

Sidious could only offer him a grim reply, however. "I'm afraid she is, my apprentice."

Vader's eyes widened. "No, she can't be…" he muttered. He clenched his fists together, and his body shook violently; he wanted to cry, but his eyes just wouldn't shed the tears. "It's not possible! What did he _do _to her?" The dark side flared to life within him, rushing to throw salt on his wounds, jeer at his misfortunes, and goad him on to revenge.

"It would seem that Padmé has died, my young apprentice…" Sidious continued. "He must have killed her."

Vader could do nothing but take in great breaths of disbelief. "But why would he do that? I saw her, she was in pain, and calling out his name…" He tried to frown, but his brow ached as he attempted to do so. "Why would she do that? Where had she been? What had happened? And where is my son…?"

"Do not dwell on the past, Lord Vader. You have done the galaxy a great service - you have finally killed Lord Tyranus, and helped bring peace to the Empire."

"But Padmé…?"

"She is dead, Lord Vader. She betrayed us both. Surely you remember that?"

"And my son?"

Sidious seemed unsure of this. "We shall discover him one day."

Darth couldn't get his head round things; nothing seemed to be making any sense. "Why did she have to die?" he asked. "How could she?"

He felt Sidious's hand on his shoulder. "Rest, my apprentice," the Sith Master murmured, "You need time to recover." He then walked away.

It was only at that moment that Darth finally realised how his breaths were resounding with an unnatural loudness in his ears; they came in steady, automated beats, going in-and-out, as if he had become some kind of… _machine_.

He began to breathe rapidly in panic. "No," he gasped, as reality clicked, and he felt the helmet over his head, the artificial limbs at his knees, the mechanised respirator in his chest, the gauntlets over his hands. "NOOO!"

* * *

Obi-Wan held Luke in his arms that night on Serenno as he set light to the pyre and watched the body of Count Dooku burn. This was his final task before he set off for Tatooine the next day, to deliver Luke to his family, and to go into his own, self-imposed exile; he was to watch over the boy and wait for the moment that his destiny called.

He looked down at the child in his arms and smiled as he watched Luke gawp at the smouldering fire, one significant new life watching the end of a significant old one; it almost felt like poetic justice. It was impossible to believe that, one day, this young child might save them all…

Obi then turned to stare at the inferno himself, and gazed blankly into its writhing, glowing depths as memory upon memory rolled back upon him and clouded his thoughts.

_/'I've got a bad feeling about this.'_

'_I don't sense anything.'_

'_It's not about the mission, master, it's something elsewhere… elusive.'_

'_Don't centre on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here and now where it belongs.'/_

_/'What if I told you that the Republic was under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith?'_

'_No, that's not possible. The Jedi would be aware of it.'_

'_The dark side of the Force has clouded their vision, my friend. Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.'_

'_I don't believe you.'/_

"We don't all make our father's mistakes," Kenobi thus murmured, glancing back down at Luke and giving the boy's tiny head a stroke. "Don't forget that, Luke. When you one day know, don't forget that." He then rose his eyes to look at Serenn's burning body, and he stared into the blackened remains of the Count's face with resolve; "You are not your father," he said, "And you never will be."

**The End**

* * *

**The Author's Last Word**

Hello everyone - I couldn't just leave it there, so I thought I'd put a bit of a farewell speech at the end, seeing as I've never written such an epic fanfic in my life before, and have never had such a popular one, either.

First of all, just a big thank you to you all for managing to read it (unless you happen to be a person like my younger sister, who reads the last page of a story first, then reads the rest, in which case, I'm thanking you in advance). "Eclipse" admittedly started life as a one-off experimental chapter, inspired by several things, but most of all the excluded scene of "Dooku interrogates Padmé" from the bonus "Attack of the Clones" DVD disc. I remember being in a rather bad mood at the time, and I just wanted to write something dark and different - I was trying to think of a way of putting a 'fanciable' Dooku on the screen, and thought that it would be a challenge to write a credible scene where the man won Padmé round in a rather sensual way. So I went about writing an alternate interrogation scene, removing all the characters but Dooku and Padmé, and seeing what I could do with them. Once I re-wrote the scene - which is basically this story's first chapter - that was going to be it; I'd done my little thing and that was that. But I couldn't leave it there - curiosity asked me what would _really _happen next.: Where would this all go? And so, enticed by this twisted mystery, I went about discovering the rest of the story. And now, in the words of Gandalf, 'We come to it at last' - the end. I published the first chapter on the 25th January 2003 - you can do the math to work out how long it has taken me to finish. It's been an on-and-off project, but it hasn't really left my mind at all for the past two and a half years and has become an inseparable part of my life, consuming me at all times. I've had nights where I've had to leap out of bed to write a new idea, or I've listened to a harmless piece of music, only to be inspired to mould my story to it. If nothing else, I think writing this story has really made me realise the sheer scope of George Lucas's vision - how the man has come up with his immense story is beyond me; this has been a mere fan fiction and, I can tell you, I've been mentally exhausted by it! It truly is much more difficult to create something than it is to criticise it, and I have nothing but the deepest of respect for Mr. Lucas. His films may not please everyone, but they are monuments to his imagination and creativity, and he has inspired me to push myself to the limits in creating my own little "Star Wars" altraverse.

The story has gone from being a short alternate ending to "Attack of the Clones" to being a full-blown bridge between the traditional Episodes II and IV. It's been rather dark and incredibly risqué, but I do hope that you can see that I haven't used these taboo situations for the sheer Hell of it; there is reasoning behind each move Dooku made on Padmé, and the same with the evil Anakin of the story's latter half. And I've had to go into the pits of the darkness to be able to come back into the light, so that you can recognise the contrasts.

I've got to know my Dooku quite well over the past couple of years and I'm going to miss him. I've been carrying him around with me for so long that it's going to be a tearful separation when I go to put him back into George Lucas's toolbox, from whence he came. The same goes for Grievous, who turned out to be a little different to his canon counterpart, moody Anakin, sensitive Obi-Wan, eccentric Master Yoda, ingenious Lord Sidious, and of course, Padmé, who has never been a great favourite of mine, but who was my original tool for bringing out Serenn's villainy, and ultimately for bringing out a whole spectrum of emotions and changes in him. I thank her for letting me put her through so much and apologise to her for having to leave her with such a sombre finale.

What else is there to say? Thank you again to ALL you readers and I hope you found the ending satisfactory. I'm again sorry for not getting this finished prior to "Revenge of the Sith", but hey… that was a pretty awesome film and it did help push me along a little more. :)

I must give a few extra thanks to a certain few people who have contributed, with or without knowing, invaluably to my story:

Firstly, thank you to a certain **Evil Sith Lady **who kindly allowed me to christen my Count Dooku 'Serenn' - she came up with the name originally, though she spelt it with one 'n' and two 'r's, but I couldn't imagine calling him anything else now!

Thank you also to **Skywalker Blue**, who I lost around chapter 15 - your reviews were the greatest of inspirations at the start, and I doubt I would have had such gusto for this project without you.

Thanks to both **PadawanHAB **(who keeps changing her name, so I'm not sure who she is right now) who wrote "Firestorm" and to **Kelly B.** who wrote "Succumb", which are two stories that have helped inspire me in one way or another. Also thanks to **Riley** who wrote the _Harry Potter_ fanfic "Pawn to Queen", which, though incomplete, also helped to inspire me in several ways; PtQ is a tale about another twisted union, albeit in another fan-universe.

Thanks to **Blitzen**, who beta-read some of my early chapters - you helped me see some early errors in my writing, and have helped me to improve my writing style on top of that. (I think, anyway.)

Thank you to **Kynstar**, who's always been a great supporter of my work and who reviews pretty much as soon as I post each chapter, and the same goes out to my good friend **Gabe**, who's as crazy about Dooku as I am (it's _my _turn to have him now, Gabe!). Further thanks go out to **Merrymoll **who, again, I seem to have lost somewhere along the way (due to a certain Patrician, I believe) and whose own work helped give me the kick to carry on with mine, both my old "A Test of Faith" fanfic and this substantially larger one. And **Silverwolf47** and **REV**deserve mentions, too.

I must bow down in respect to **Cael Fenton **whose enormous and in-depth reviews of some of my chapters have been a huge help to me, and will be a great reference point for me when the Big Edit eventually happens; I've never had such intellectually advanced reviews! I bow down to you.

And finally, great thanks go out to **Padawanmage **who has been a very generous and kind friend - far greater a friend than I deserve - and who has always been ready to write an essay on my each and every chapter, as well as being one of the few people, along with Cael, who's had guts enough to point out my errors to me; I don't like to admit when I've done something wrong, but I do need to know. Thank you so much.

All that's left for "Eclipse" now is the BIG edit, but I can't guarantee that'll be done anytime soon.

Anyway, my final thanks, and I hope to see you all around again soon. If you have any further questions or quibbles about my story, don't hesitate to contact me - I'll try and help you out as best I can. My email address is available via my profile page, or you can find me on Live Journal as **Jurious**.

MTFBWY, always!

--**Grace** (AKA **Jurious**)


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